v 

K    4V 


A  CARPET  KNIGHT 


A  Novel 


BY 

HARFORD    FLEMMING 

AUTHOR  OF  "CUPID  AHD  THE  SPHCOf.'' 


Nothing  is  there  to  come,  and  nothing  put ; 
But  an  eternal  now  does  alwayi  last. 

COWLLV,  Daridei* 


BOSTON 

HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  AND   COMPANY 
New  York  :   11  East  Seventeenth  Street 


1885 


Copyright,  1886, 
BY  HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  &  CO. 

All  rights  reserved. 


The  Riverside  Press,  Cambridge  : 
Electrotyped  and  Printed  by  H.  0.  lloughton  &  Co. 


A  CARPET  KNIGHT. 


CHAPTER  I. 

AFTER  THE   BALL. 

"A  mighty  maze,  but  not  without  a  plan." 

POPB. 

THE  lights  were  brilliant  still,  although  the  flow- 
ers were  fading.  The  music  had  ceased,  and  the 
hunchbacked  violinist  was  putting  his  instrument 
into  its  case.  The  flageolet  player  and  the  pianist 
and  the  two  French  horns  were  gone. 

The  gay  entertainment  had  come  to  an  end,  and 
the  hostess  stood  meditatively  before  a  tall  mirror, 
at  one  end  of  the  room,  which  reflected  her  white 
satin  dress  and  all  its  elaborate  embroidery,  from 
the  low-cut  neck  to  the  point  of  the  train,  with  un- 
interrupted accuracy. 

She  had  been  said  to  resemble  Titian's  Flora  on 
account  of  the  fashionable  color  of  her  hair,  and 
perhaps  from  an  impressive  serenity  of  demeanor. 
She  was  a  striking-looking  woman  and  dressed  to 
perfection,  which  can  hardly  be  said  of  Titian's 

masterpiece  ;  but  she  was  no  longer  young,  and  al- 
i 

17-17012 


2  A   CARPET  KNIGHT. 

though  her  figure  and  complexion  were  still  fine 
her  small  red-brown  eyes  and  a  lack  of  delicacy  in 
the  shape  and  expression  of  her  mouth  interfered 
with  her  title  to  be  considered  handsome. 

She  seemed  to  be  looking  at  herself,  although 
she  was  not  consciously  doing  so,  any  more  than 
she  was  aware  of  the  ironical  smile  with  which  the 
hunchbacked  musician  regarded  her,  as,  after  hav- 
ing carefully  packed  his  instrument,  he  bowed  and 
departed. 

The  whole  of  the  ball-room  was  as  perfectly  re- 
produced in  the  mirror  as  the  lady's  toilet,  and  the 
gaze  of  the  hostess  was  fixed  on  a  certain  yellow 
satin  sofa,  which  furnished  an  alcove  on  her  left, 
formed  by  a  deep  bay  window,  the  opening  of  which 
was  partly  screened  by  a  stand  of  flowering  plants 
and  shaded  by  heavy  curtains. 

The  two  persons  who  occupied  the  sofa  were  so 
closed  in  by  their  surroundings  that  it  was  not  to 
be  wondered  at  that  they  had  not  perceived  the 
gradual  departure  of  the  company  in  general,  and 
were  yet  unaware  of  the  emptiness  of  the  room. 

One,  a  young  girl  in  a  dress  of  marvelously  in- 
terwoven stripes  of  blue  and  gold,  was  sitting  well 
back  in  the  farther  corner.  She  was  slight,  with 
dark  hair,  a  dark  skin,  and  very  clearly  cut  fea- 
tures. Her  head  was  a  little  bent,  and  her  eyes 
were  cast  down,  with  an  amused  smile  about  the 
corners  of  her  mouth.  She  seemed  to  be  submit- 
ting rather  than  listening  to  the  somewhat  labored 
speech  of  her  companion,  a  youth  not  much  older 


A   CARPET  KNIGHT.  3 

than  herself,  who  was  leaning  a  little  towards  her, 
and  talking  earnestly.  The  lady  of  the  house  could 
only  see  the  reflection  of  his  back,  a  fine  broad  one, 
and  judge  by  his  attitude  of  the  expression  of  his 
fare ;  but  she  could  see  enough  to  satisfy  her. 

"  He  is  doing  very  well,"  she  said  to  herself. 
"  She  may  smile  now,  but  she  will  not  smile  always. 
If  he  only  does  not  change  his  mind,  he  will  win 
his  way  at  last.  I  have  known  men  succeed  who 
were  twice  as  stupid  and  not  half  so  good-looking, 
where  they  were  determined.  The  great  thing  will 
be  to  get  her  guardian's  consent "  —  She  start- 
ed, for  at  this  moment  her  interesting  study  was 
broken  in  upon. 

"  Ah,  Mr.  Drayton,"  she  said  aloud,  as  she 
turned  to  greet  a  tall,  handsome  man  in  evening 
dress,  who  approached  her  without  noticing  the  two 
whom  she  was  watching.  "  So  you  have  escaped 
from  Mr.  Davering  at  last,  and  are  ready,  I  fancy, 
for  a  little  supper  with  which  to  end  the  evening." 

"  No  more  supper,  thank  you.  I  came  to  look 
for  Julia,"  said  Mr.  Drayton.  "  I  had  no  idea  it 
was  so  late.  Your  husband  beguiled  me  into  his 
sanctum,  and  there  we  have  been  smoking  and  re- 
calling old  college  days  for  the  last  hour.  I  hear 
the  ball  was  delightful,  Mrs.  Davering.  How 
charmingly  your  rooms  look  !  " 

"  Yes,  I  think  the  party  went  off  fairly  well," 
said  Mrs.  Davering,  not  without  some  of  the  "pride 
thab  apes  humility ; "  "  but  you  really  shall  look  at 
nothing  until  I  have  shown  you  your  own  beautiful 


4  A    CARPET  KNIGHT: 

gift,  —  these  lovely  Jacqueminots.  Do  they  not 
look  well  in  this  corner  ?  I  huug  them  here  that 
every  one  might  see  them." 

She  drew  his  attention,  as  she  spoke,  to  a  basket 
of  dark  red  roses,  with  green  vines  of  smilax  trail- 
ing from  it,  which  hung  on  the  carved  props  of  an 
easel,  the  support  of  a  little  landscape  in  water  col- 
ors, which  brightened  the  corner  of  the  room  far- 
thest from  the  alcove  and  its  occupants. 

"  It  seems  to  me  that  every  one  has  gone,"  said 
Mr.  Drayton  rather  absently.  "  I  must  find  Julia. 
I  am  afraid  she  will  be  wondering  where  I  am." 

"  Perhaps  we  shall  find  her  in  the  library,"  said 
Mrs.  Davering,  slipping  her  arm  through  that  of 
her  companion.  "  How  well  Julia  looked  this 
evening ! "  she  continued,  as  she  led  him  unsuspect- 
ingly towards  the  door  through  which  he  had  en- 
tered ;  "  she  has  so  much  ease  and  charm  of  man- 
ner, too,  one  would  not  imagine  that  this  was  her 
first  ball." 

"  Julia  has  seen  some  society  at  home,"  said  Mr. 
Drayton,  smiling,  "  and  then  traveling  does  a  great 
deal  in  that  way  for  young  people,  I  think." 

As  they  left  the  room  the  young  man  on  the  sofa 
said,  "  I  am  really  obliged  to  you  for  letting  me  ex- 
plain it.  It  is  awfully  interesting  to  me,  you  know, 
and  I  can't  understand  why  so  many  girls  don't 
care  a  fig  for  what  a  fellow  takes  an  interest  in." 

"  Perhaps  they  don't  take  an  interest  in  the  fel- 
low, you  know,"  said  the  young  lady,  with  a  frank 
smile. 


A   CARPET  KNIGHT.  5 

"  Well,  no,  I  did  not  mean  that ;  that  would  be 
natural,  of  course,"  said  the  youth,  turning  red. 

"  But  I  mean  that  I  think  it  would  be  very  un- 
natural." 

"  I  wish  I  could  tell  what  you  really  do  mean, 
Miss  Prescott,"  he  answered  bluntly. 

"  I  really  do  mean  that  so  far  as  I  can  see  the 
people  are  all  gone,  and  so  far  as  I  can  hear  the 
music  is  stopped,  and  the  party  must  be  over !  " 

"  By  Jove,  I  believe  it  is  !  "  exclaimed  her  com- 
panion, springing  up.  He  was  a  strong,  active- 
looking  fellow,  with  brown  curly  hair,  a  ruddy 
complexion,  and  a  pair  of  very  stolid  blue  eyes. 
"  What  a  bore  to  have  it  end  !  "  he  said. 

"  I  do  not  agree  with  you,  Mr.  Hazzard.  It 
was  pleasant,  but  do  you  not  think  we  might  really 
have  been  bored  if  it  had  kept  on  forever  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know  about  that,"  said  Mr.  Haz- 
zard. "  I  think  I  could  have  stood  it ;  that  is,  I 
would  not  have  minded  sitting  on  as  we  were." 

"  For  how  many  years  ?  "  asked  the  girl,  looking 
up  at  him  gayly  as  he  stood  before  her.  "  Imagine 
my  growing  old  and  wrinkled  in  my  ball -dress, 
au:l  your  losing  all  your  teeth,  and  still  sitting  on, 
on  this  sofa,  until  you  could  not  get  up  without  a 
cane." 

"  Oh,  I  only  meant  if  we  could  remain  unchanged, 
of  course,"  said  Mr.  Hazzard,  with  a  troubled  look. 
It  seemed  to  him  that  his  conversational  ship  had 
sailed  into  unknown  waters,  and  he  was  afraid  of 
hidden  reefs. 


6  A    CARPET  KNIGHT. 

"  I  really  think  that  would  be  more  of  a  bore," 
said  Miss  Prescott.  "  To  be  always  sitting  on  a 
yellow  satin  sofa,  and  always  the  same,  just  think ! 
Now  growing  old  is  not  cheerful,  but  still  it  might 
divert  our  minds  a  little." 

She  looked  very  pretty  as  she  said  this,  and  very 
saucy.  Poor  Mr.  Hazzard,  who  was  evidently  a 
captive  to  her  charms,  sighed  deeply. 

"  I  should  not  want  anything  to  divert  my  mind," 
he  said,  gloomily. 

"  Nonsense !  You  would  be  dying  to  go  shoot- 
ing, or  rowing,  or  skating,  or  anything  that  you  are 
fond  of  doing.  But  I  wonder  where  Mrs.  Davering 
is.  I  must  go  and  say  good-night.  And  I  thought 
I  heard  my  guardian's  voice  a  moment  ago." 

"  So  you  did.  I  think  he  went  into  the  next 
room  with  my  mother." 

"  Shall  we  go  and  find  them  ?  "  asked  Miss  Pres- 
cott. She  appeared,  as  she  stood  up,  to  be  of  about 
medium  height,  lithe  and  well  proportioned,  her 
figure  seeming  to  imply  a  certain  reserved  strength, 
which  was  also  felt  to  be  half  hinted  in  her  face. 

"  How  glad  you  seem  that  your  first  ball  is  over," 
said  the  young  fellow,  jealously. 

"  Until  it  is  over,  how  can  my  second  one  be- 
gin ?  "  she  asked,  philosophically. 

As  Mr.  Draytoii  and  his  ward  were  being  driven 
home  from  Mrs.  Davering's  ball,  he  said,  — 

"  Well,  dear,  was  the  party  a  success  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  it  was  rather  pleasant." 

"Is  that  all?" 


A   CARPET  KNIGHT.  7 

"  I  know  it  sounds  ungrateful,"  she  said,  depre- 
catingly. 

"  You  would  have  enjoyed  it  more  if  Philip  had 
been  there,"  said  Mr.  Drayton.  "  He  could  have 
introduced  some  of  his  friends.  I  was  very  sorry 
that  he  had  to  go  to  Washington  just  at  this  time, 
but  it  was  a  choice  of  evils  ;  either  he  or  I  "  — 

"  And  you  knew  how  unhappy  I  should  be  if 
you  went,"  broke  in  Julia.  "  What  should  I  have 
done  ?  It  would  have  been  rather  ungracious  to 
disappoint  Mrs.  Davering,  when  she  insisted  on 
considering  that  the  party  was  given  for  me ;  and 
yet  I  never  could  have  had  the  courage  to  go  with- 
out you  to  take  care  of  me." 

"  I  suppose  it  was  hardly  a  matter  of  courage," 
said  her  guardian.  "  In  fact,"  he  added  resignedly, 
"  I  fancy  that  this  was  one  of  those  occult  occa- 
sions when  I  was  bound  to  play  propriety  for  your 
benefit." 

"  I  suppose  so,"  replied  Julia,  with  equal  meek- 
ness. 

"  I  confess  that  I  sometimes  get  a  little  mixed 
up  between  the  conflicting  duties  of  the  charac- 
ters I  am  called  upon  to  assume,"  said  Mr.  Dray- 
ton.  "  That  of  a  gossiping  chaperon,  if  I  may 
so  describe  my  rOle  to-night,  suits  me  admirably  ; 
but  I  can't  help  thinking  that  if  I  had  not  been  so 
busy  in  this  capacity  I  might  have  been  of  more 
use  to  you  as  a  society  man." 

"  You  might,  if  you  had  talked  to  me,"  said  Julia, 
"  for  then  we  should  have  entertained  one  another, 


8  A   CARPET  KNIGHT. 

and  there  would  have  been  no  doubt  about  my  en- 
joying the  evening ;  but  as  for  playing  master  of 
ceremonies  and  introducing  other  people,  I  could 
quite  well  dispense  with  your  services." 

"  Did  you  have  as  many  people  as  you  wanted, 
to  dance  with  ?  " 

"  Oh  dear,  yes,  and  to  talk  to !  —  sometimes  two 
or  three  at  a  time ;  but  they  were  not  very  interest- 
ing, or  perhaps  I  was  not.  And  then  Charley  Haz- 
zard  would  insist  upon  my  going  to  look  at  the 
flowers  in  the  bay  window ;  and  when  we  got  there 
he  asked  me  to  sit  down,  which  I  did  unsuspect- 
ingly, for  I  began  to  think  afterwards  that  we  never 
should  get  out  again." 

"  Oh  ho  !  "  cried  Mr.  Drayton.  "  So  that  was 
where  you  were,  when  I  could  not  find  you  ?  It 
was  not  so  bad,  was  it,  to  have  to  talk  to  a  hand- 
some young  fellow,  while  you  looked  at  the  flowers 
and  listened  to  the  music  ?  " 

"  But  I  did  not  have  to  talk.  I  had  to  listen ; 
and  not  to  the  music,  either,  but  to  a  minute  descrip- 
tion of  the  way  men  train  for  boat-races." 

"  That  was  very  instructive." 

"  It  was  very  destructive  to  one  of  my  bouquets ! 
I  pulled  it  almost  all  to  pieces  out  of  sheer  despera- 
tion." 

"  The  form  which  your  desperation  took  was  not 
very  flattering  to  the  sender  of  the  flowers." 

"The  sender?  Perhaps  it  might  not  have  seemed 
so,  if  he  had  been  there ;  but  I  am  almost  afraid  he 
would  not  have  cared." 


A  c.\nrrr  KXH;IIT.  9 

"Afraid?" 

"1  mean  that  I  suspect  he  sent  them  only  be- 
cause he  has  been  asked  to  the  house  so  often." 

"Why,  what  a  little  skeptic  you  are  getting  to 
be !  I  wonder  there  is  anything  left  of  the  lilies 
of  the  valley  I  gave  you,"  he  said,  laughing,  as  he 
glanced  down  at  a  fragrant  bunch,  which  she  still 
held  in  her  hand.  "  They  were  a  direct  return,  I 
assure  you,  for  many  an  evening's  entertainment." 

Julia  laughed,  too. 

"  On  the  contrary,"  she  answered,  "  I  used  to  be 
a  skeptic,  but  now  I  am  learning  to  distinguish." 
She  looked  up  into  his  face,  which  she  could  see 
quite  plainly  by  the  aid  of  a  street  lamp,  with  a 
bright,  trustful  gleam  in  her  dark  eyes  which  con- 
trasted strongly  with  their  usual  self-contained  ex- 
pression. 

"  And  who  is  the  person  whom  you  have  distin- 
guished so  unflatteringly  ?  " 

"  Oh,  as  for  that,"  said  Julia,  "  he  is  not  here  at 
all.  The  bouquet  which  I  demolished  was  sent 
from  Boston,  by  Philip's  friend,  Dr.  Carey." 

There  was  a  short  silence. 

"  Julia  ! ''  said  Mr.  Drayton,  suddenly,  in  a 
graver  tone  than  he  had  used  before. 

"Well,  sir?" 

"  It  troubles  me  that  you  seem  to  take  so  little 
pleasure  in  the  society  of  your  young  friends." 

"  I  have  very  few,"  said  Julia. 

"  But  there  is  no  reason  why  you  should  not  have 
many." 


10  A  CARPET  KNIGHT. 

"  I  do  not  care  for  most  people  enough  to  make 
friends  of  them." 

"  That  does  not  seem  natural  at  your  age." 
"  Does  it  seem  unnatural,  at  yours,  that  one  should 
not  care  to  trust  every  one  ?  " 

"  No,  not  at  mine." 

"  Then  would  you  have  me  stupid,  just  because 
I  am  young?" 

"  No,  dear,  not  stupid,  but  with  more  of  the 
freshness  of  youth,  its  beautiful  faith  and  happy 
belief  in  things  at  their  best." 

"  I  am  sorry,"  said  Julia.  "  I  have  no  illusions. 
If  I  ever  had  any,  they  must  have  been  nipped  in 
the  bud." 

"  And  yet  there  is  a  great  capacity  for  faith  in 
your  nature,"  said  Mr.  Drayton,  thoughtfully. 

"  Do  you  think  so  ?  " 

"  I  know  it." 

"  And  if  there  should  be  —  for  I  am  not  sure  — 
would  you  have  me  expend  it  on  people  whom  I 
know  to  be  shallow  and  selfish  ?  " 

"  How  can  you  know  it,  child  ?  You  judge  peo- 
ple too  hastily  and  too  harshly." 

"  Perhaps  I  do ;  but  if  I  cannot  think  them  nice, 
how  can  I  want  to  see  much  of  them?  " 

"  Try  to  be  more  charitable.  You  will  find  that 
there  is  some  good  in  every  one ;  at  least,  so  I  think. 
It  may  be  an  old-fashioned  doctrine.  Meanwhile, 
is  there  no  one  —  no  young  girl  of  your  own  age, 
for  instance  —  whom  you  do  feel  attached  to,  and 
would  Jike  to  see  more  of  ?  " 


A   CARPET  KNIGHT.  11 

Julia  was  silent  for  a  moment. 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  "  there  is  one,  —  an  old  school 
friend.  I  would  give  a  great  deal  to  see  her 
a^ain !  " 

"  You  have  only  to  say  the  word,  my  dear.  I 
am  delighted  that  there  is  a  friend  whom  you  would 
like  to  have  with  you."  And  thus  encouraged 
Julia  did  say  the  word. 


CHAPTER   II. 

• 

"For  Art  may  err,  but  Nature  cannot  miss." 

DRYDEN. 

THE  face  of  a  young  girl,  seated  in  an  American 
drawing-room  car,  had  attracted  the  attention  of  a 
fellow-traveler,  who  watched  her  with  some  interest. 
It  was  a  sweet,  fair  face,  with  wide  blue  eyes  and 
a  very  tender  little  mouth.  It  did  not  suggest  the 
idea  of  any  great  depth  or  breadth  of  intellectual 
capacity,  but  it  filled  one  with  a  certainty  that  its 
owner  was  pure  and  good.  She  had,  besides  this, 
an  air  of  extreme  youth  and  inexperience,  which, 
together  with  an  evident  desire  to  seem  at  home  in 
novel  circumstances,  was  almost  touching. 

She  was,  apparently,  unused  to  traveling,  and 
nothing  about  her  escaped  careful  notice,  but  she 
was  very  quiet  in  the  study  of  her  surroundings. 
It  was,  perhaps,  as  much  the  well-bred  reserve  of 
her  manner  as  her  face  which  held  the  attention  of 
her  observer ;  but  he  had  a  nice  eye  for  effect,  al- 
though not  quite  equal  to  understanding  the  detail 
of  female  attire,  and  he  had  been  struck  with  the 
elegant  simplicity  of  her  dark  green  traveling  dress, 
fitted  faultlessly  to  her  pretty,  slender  figure,  even 
before  he  saw  her  face.  A  small  plush  bonnet,  of 
the  same  dark  color,  had  at  first  been  a  source  of 


A   CARPET  KNIGHT.  13 

intense  aggravation  to  him,  as  all  that  he  was  per- 
mitted to  see  beyond  the  bonnet  was  a  stray  lock 
of  curling  light  brown  hair  and  part  of  a  smooth 
white  cheek. 

Occupying  the  arm-chair  directly  behind  his  fair 
neighbor,  his  situation  was  not  a  very  favorable  one 
for  observation,  but  the  revolving  liberty  allowed 
to  his  otherwise  fixed  position  enabled  him  to  turn, 
presently,  so  as  to  face  the  large  window  at  the  side 
of  the  car,  through  which  she  was  looking ;  and 
then  it  chanced  that  a  swift  little  backward  motion 
of  her  head,  as  her  eyes  followed  some  retreating 
object  in  the  landscape,  gave  him  at  length  a  very 
complete  impression. 

He  was  himself  a  gentlemanly-looking  young  fel- 
low of  about  five  and  twenty.  He  wore  an  overcoat 
of  a  very  light  shade,  although  it  was  winter,  and 
carried  a  cane.  He  had  also  carefully  suspended 
his  black  silk  hat  in  a  kind  of  crate  overhead,, 
which  seemed  to  be  intended  for  that  purpose,  and 
put  on  a  small  camel's-hair  cap  of  a  pale  brown 
tint,  embroidered  with  silk  of  the  same  color. 

The  journey,  which  had  been  begun  at  about 
four  o'clock  of  a  December  afternoon,  happened, 
as  the  event  proved,  to  be  prolonged  much  beyond 
its  expected  length ;  for  insfead  of  reaching  their 
destination,  which  chanced  to  be  the  same,  at  a 
little  after  six,  the  two  travelers  found  themselves 
scarcely  one  third  of  the  way  when  that  hour  ar- 
rived, in  consequence  of  an  accident  somewhere  on 
the  line  of  the  railroad. 


14  A   CARPET  KNIGHT. 

The  news  of  the  disaster  was  telegraphed  along 
the  road,  but  the  conductors  were  too  well  drilled 
to  show  anxiety  in  their  faces.  They  passed  about 
cheerfully  from  car  to  car,  answering  all  inquiries 
with  a  calm  assumption  of  ignorance,  which,  as  the 
minutes  grew  into  hours  of  waiting,  became  in- 
tensely aggravating  to  uneasy  persons,  who  saw 
their  dinner  hour  and  their  journey's  end  receding 
farther  and  farther  in  opposite  directions. 

There  was  no  one  who  felt  the  unfitness  and 
impropriety  of  such  a  divorce  more  keenly  than 
the  young  man  in  the  light  overcoat.  He  got  out 
of  his  seat  and  left  the  car.  He  came  back  to  it 
again  with  an  air  of  forced  resignation.  He 
changed  his  cap  for  his  hat,  and  his  hat  for  his 
cap,  many  times.  When  the  conductor  appeared  he 
asked  him  penetrating  questions  as  to  the  nature 
and  vicinity  of  the  accident,  which  he  cleverly  as- 
sumed to  have  occurred,  and  treated  the  evasive  an- 
swers which  he  obtained  with  the  contempt  which 
they  deserved. 

It  soon  grew  too  dark  to  see  beyond  a  large  red 
light  before  the  station  where  they  were  delayed, 
and  thus  the  diversion  of  inspecting  the  scenery 
was  denied,  and  he  was  cut  off  from  all  amusement 
but  that  of  watching  the  occupant  of  the  arm-chair 
in  front  of  him. 

The  girl  had  turned  away  from  the  window  as 
the  shades  of  evening  fell,  and,  the  lamps  being 
lighted  within,  had  drawn  a  paper-covered  volume 
from  her  canvas  traveling-bag,  which  she  seemed  to 
be  perusing  with  much  interest. 


A   CARPET  KNIGHT.  15 

She  did  not  exhibit  the  least  sign  of  uneasiness, 
impatience,  or  alarm.  One  would  have  suspected 
from  her  manner  that  she  almost  enjoyed  the  delay, 
since  the  little  incidents  to  which  it  gave  rise  were 
evidently  of  as  much  interest  to  her  as  the  more 
active  events  of  the  journey. 

She  looked  up  when  any  one  passed  through  the 
car,  or  any  of  the  passengers  spoke  near  her.  She 
listened  to  all  that  the  conductor  had  to  say,  and 
was  very  friendly  with  a  little  Scotch  terrier  be- 
longing to  an  actress,  who  was  seated  just  opposite  ; 
but  between  all  her  little  upward  glances,  which 
were  as  earnest  and  unconscious  as  those  of  a  bird, 
she  returned  to  the  novel  she  was  reading,  with  the 
air  of  one  whose  individuality  was  quite  apart  from 
those  of  her  fellow-travelers. 

After  watching  her  with  attention  for  some  time, 
thinking  that  she  might  happen  to  turn  towards 
him,  or  that  chance  might  offer  him  some  opening 
for  conversation,  —  which  he  intended,  be  it  under- 
stood, to  conduct  after  the  most  courteous  and  re- 
spectful manner,  —  her  neighbor  became  hopeless 
of  the  attempt.  There  was  something  in  the  young 
lady's  manner  which  precluded  it. 

At  last,  at  nearly  ten  o'clock,  they  reached  their 
journey's  end.  The  young  lady  in  the  dark  green 
traveling  dress  collected  her  book,  her  shawl,  and 
her  bag,  and  stepped  out  of  the  train,  in  a  well- 
known  railway  station,  in  the  midst  of  a  very  large, 
very  flat  city,  where  almost  all  the  houses  were  built 
of  red  brick,  and  were  approached  by  white  marble 


16  A   CARPET  KNIGHT. 

steps,  and  where  many  of  them  still  retained  the 
white  painted  doors  and  shutters  of  a  former  fash- 
ion ;  where  the  streets  crossed  each  other  at  right 
angles  in  the  most  proper  manner,  and  four  green 
squares,  at  justly  measured  intervals,  planted  with 
solemn  rows  of  trees,  bounded  the  older,  more  cen- 
tral, and  more  intensely  respectable  portion  of  the 
metropolis. 

These  stately  attractions  had  not  yet  dawned 
upon  the  young  lady,  who  was  a  stranger  to  the 
city  of  brotherly  love,  and  was  surprised  and  con- 
fused at  the  size  and  bustle  of  the  huge  brick  sta- 
tion in  which  she  found  herself. 

She  was  evidently  expecting  some  one  to  meet 
her,  —  probably  an  old  gentleman,  for  she  glanced 
anxiously  at  the  face  of  every  elderly  man  whom 
she  saw,  as  she  walked  along  the  platform,  and 
scanned  still  more  wistfully  those  who  were  stand- 
ing outside  the  railing  which  separated  the  trains 
from  the  waiting-rooms  and  offices. 

As  her  fellow-passengers  filed  slowly  through  the 
iron  gateway,  formed  by  an  opening  in  this  railing, 
she  saw  many  of  them  greeted  by  an  expectant 
friend  or  group  of  friends,  and  eagerly  hurried 
away.  Those  who  were  not  met  by  any  one  ap- 
peared to  be  old  travelers,  accustomed  to  look  out 
for  themselves,  or  natives  returning  to  their  homes, 
who  trudged  off  with  an  air  of  ease  and  familiar- 
ity with  the  surroundings  which  denoted  that  they 
knew  just  where  to  go  and  what  to  do. 

Unfortunately  for  the  stranger,  she  belonged  to 


A   CARPET  KNIGHT.  17 

no  one  of  these  classes.  She  was  alone,  in  an  un- 
known city,  not  at  all  accustomed  to  traveling,  and 
everything  about  her  was  new  and  untried.  She 
had  been  so  certain  of  being  met  and  welcomed 
that  it  had  not  occurred  to  her  to  consider  her  best 
course  of  action  in  case  she  were  not,  and  she  be- 
gan to  fear  that  her  uncertainty  and  perplexed  ex- 
pression would  attract  attention. 

At  this  moment  the  young  man  who  had  occu- 
pied the  seat  behind  hers  approached  and  touched 
his  hat. 

"  Can  I  do  anything  for  you  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Thank  you  —  no,"  she  said,  coldly.  "  I  am 
expecting  my  friends  to  meet  me." 

"  Perhaps  I  can  find  thorn  for  you,"  said  the 
young  man,  who  really  wished  to  be  of  service. 

"  You  are  very  kind,  but  I  think  they  will  be 
here  in  a  moment." 

He  touched  his  hat  again,  and  was  passing  on, 
when  a  glance  at  her  face  arrested  him.  Its 
troubled  expression  quite  belied  the  quiet  decision 
of  her  words.  He  hesitated  and  stood  still. 

"  I  should  be  very  glad  to  help  you,"  he  said,  in 
a  tone  of  embarrassed  sincerity,  which  appealed  to 
the  girl  more  successfully  than  his  former  more 
confident  address  had  done. 

"  There  is  nothing  you  can  do,"  she  said,  relent- 
ing a  little,  "  unless,"  she  added  shyly,  "  you  could 
find  me  a  carriage." 

"  I  will  do  so  with  pleasure.  Let  me  take  you 
first  to  the  waiting-room."  He  led  the  way  as  he 


18  A    CARPET  KNIGHT. 

spoke,  carrying  her  bag,  which  he  had  taken  from 
her  hand.  She  followed  him  without  a  word,  and 
waited  in  the  ladies'  room  until  he  reappeared  at 
the  door,  when  she  came  hastily  out. 

"  How  about  your  trunks  ?  "  he  asked,  in  a  busi- 
ness-like tone,  as  he  helped  her  into  the  carriage  he 
had  summoned. 

"  I  have  only  one." 

"  Would  it  not  be  well  to  give  your  check  to  the 
driver,  and  take  it  with  you  ?  " 

"  I  think  it  would." 

A  silence  fell  between  them  when  the  man  had 
gone  for  the  trunk. 

The  young  lady  was  seated  in  the  cab.  Her  ac- 
cidental protector  stood  gravely  by  the  open  door, 
until  the  cabman  came  back  with  her  trunk,  which 
was  a  lai'ge  one,  and  lifted  it  to  its  place  in  front. 

"  Will  you  get  in,  sir  ?  "  he  asked,  holding  the 
cab-door  open. 

"  No.  Wait  a  moment.  Where  shall  I  tell  him 
to  take  you  ?  "  the  young  man  inquired. 

"To  Mr.  Algernon  Drayton's,  1822  Meredith 
^Square.  I  am  very  much  obliged  to  you." 

The  young  man  started. 

"  Then  you  are  a  friend  of  Mr.  Drayton,  or  of 
Miss  Prescott !  "  he  exclaimed,  forsaking  the  con- 
straint into  which  her  reserve  had  forced  him  for 
his  more  buoyant  natural  manner. 

"  I  am  a  friend  of  Miss  Prescott's." 

"  I  am  so  glad  that  I  chanced  to  meet  you.  I 
am  Mr.  Wilmott,  a  friend  of  Miss  Prescott's,  too, 


A   CARPET  KNIGHT.  19 

and  Mr.  Drayton  is  my  uncle.     May  I  not  see  you 
safely  to  the  house  ?  " 

And  without  waiting  for  an  answer,  he  gave  the 
number  to  the  driver,  jumped  into  the  carriage,  and 
closed  the  door. 

The  young  lady  was  surprised,  relieved,  and  em- 
barrassed. It  was  a  comfort  to  know  that  she  had 
some  claim,  even  the  most  distant,  on  the  attention 
and  kindness  of  her  escort ;  but  his  suggestion  of 
going  with  her.  and  the  tete-d-tcte  which  it  involved, 
of  uncertain  duration,  in  a  four-wheeled  cab,  ap- 
peared to  her  extremely  awkward. 

If  she  was  impressed  with  this  view  of  the  sub- 
ject, however,  nothing  seemed  farther  from  the 
mind  of  her  companion.  He  spread  her  shawl, 
which  he  had  taken  it  upon  himself  to  carry,  on 
the  front  seat,  stowed  away  her  traveling-bag  un- 
dernenth  it.  and  advised  her  to  put  her  satchel  on 
top  of  the  shawl.  He  then  suggested  that  the  win- 
dow on  her  side  had  better  be  open,  and,  having 
gained  her  assent,  proceeded  to  open  it. 

"  That  enables  you  to  see  something,"  he  said 
cheerfully.  u  Now  I  can  tell  you  about  the  streets 
as  we  go  along.  Have  you  ever  been  here  be- 
fore?" 

"  Xo,  never." 

.  "  Really  ?  That  is  delightful.  Then  you  have  a 
great  deal  to  see.  I  suppose  you  went  to  school 
with  Miss  Prescott?"  he  added  presently. 

"  Yes.  We  were  at  school  together  for  several 
years." 


20  A    CARPET  KNIGHT. 

"  In  New  York  ?  " 

"  Near  New  York." 

"  I  wonder  if  I  have  not  heard  her  speak  of  you  ? 
Do  you  live  in  New  York  ?  " 

"  I  live  at  New  Rochelle." 

"  Then  you  must  be  Miss  Arnold." 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  smiling  at  his  persistency. 

"  I  knew  you  must  be,"  he  rejoined,  in  a  tone  of 
great  satisfaction.  "  Now,  Miss  Arnold,  if  you  will 
look  out,  please,  you  will  presently  see  the  buildings 
for  the  new  city  offices." 

She  turned  in  the  direction  he  indicated,  and 
caught  a  confused  glimpse  of  a  white  mass  of  ma- 
sonry. 

"Why,  how  large  they  are! "  she  remarked,  with 
mild  surprise. 

"  They  are  large,  of  course,"  replied  Mr.  Wil- 
mott  complacently,  and  began  giving  her  some 
local  information  with  regard  to  them,  of  which  she 
did  not  hear  a  great  deal,  as  she  was  gazing  rather 
absently  out  of  the  window. 

Suddenly  it  occurred  to  her  that  she  had  not 
expressed  sufficient  gratitude  for  the  spontaneous 
courtesy  of  her  new  acquaintance. 

"  I  really  feel  very  grateful  to  you,  Mr.  Wil- 
mott,  for  your  kindness,"  she  said,  looking  into 
the  darkness  of  the  carriage  as  she  spoke,  where 
her  companion's  face  was  only  faintly  visible.  "  I 
should  have  been  much  at  a  loss  to  know  what  to 
do  with  myself,  if  you  had  not  decided  the  matter 
for  me." 


A   CARPET  KNIGHT.  21 

"  Of  course  you  would,"  said  Mr.  Wilmott. 

"  Miss  Prescott  had  written  that  Mr.  Drayton 
would  meet  me  at  the  station,"  she  continued,  "  or 
I  should  not  have  been  allowed  to  come." 

"  The  train  was  delayed,  you  know.  There  was 
an  accident  on  the  road.  We  were  three  hours 
late,"  said  her  companion  briskly. 

"Yes,"  said  Miss  Arnold,  "I  know  we  were. 
They  must  have  given  me  up.  The  truth  is  that  I 
have  hardly  had  enough  experience  to  venture  to 
travel  alone." 

"  They  ought  to  have  been  able  to  find  out  about 
the  accident.  I  can't  understand  how  such  a  clever 
man  as  my  uncle  can  have  made  such  a  stupid  mis- 
take," said  Mr.  Wilmott  energetically. 

"  Perhaps  he  was  prevented  from  coming,  in 
some  unexpected  way." 

"  I  should  have  thought  that  in  that  case  Ju- 
lia —  Miss  Presco.tt,  I  mean  —  would  have  tried  to 
meet  you  herself." 

"  She  may  not  have  known  of  his  having  been 
prevented." 

"  I  see  you  are  determined  to  be  charitable." 

Just  then  the  cabman  began  to  drive  faster,  and 
conversation  became  impossible,  owing  to  the  plung- 
ing and  rattling  of  the  cab  over  the  cobble-stones, 
a  form  of  pavement  with  which  the  young  lady 
from  New  Rochelle  was  not  familiar. 

"  It  will  be  better  when  we  get  on  to  the  track," 
called  her  new  friend  reassuringly  ;  and  she  needed 
reassurance,  for  there  was  an  excitement  and  sense 


22  A    CARPET  KNIGHT. 

of  adventure  in  this  strange  arrival  which  made 
her  heart  beat  faster  and  faster  with  expectancy. 
She  distinctly  associated  the  jar  and  hollow  grating 
sound  with  which  the  wheels  of  the  cab  sank  into 
the  iron  grooves  of  the  tramway  with  her  first  im- 
pression of  Philadelphia,  although  she  did  not 
learn  until  afterwards  that  the  careful  fitting  of 
the  wheels  of  all  carriages  to  this  unyielding  road 
was  one  of  the  peculiarities  of  the  Quaker  city. 

They  stopped  at  last  at  the  house  in  Meredith 
Square,  and  the  cabman  asked  if  he  should  ring. 
Miss  Arnold  looked  out  anxiously. 

"  I  suppose  so,"  she  said,  in  a  perplexed  tone. 

"Yes,  ring  the  bell,  of  course,"  said  Mr.  Wil- 
mott  cheerfully.  He  was  troubled  with  no  agitat- 
ing doubts. 

The  house  was  dark  and  silent.  The  man's  foot- 
steps resounded,  as  he  climbed  the  steps,  with  a  dis- 
tinctness characteristic  of  very  cold  weather.  He 
struck  his  hands  together  impatiently  after  he  had 
rung,  and  then  buried  them  in  the  depths  of  his 
coat  pockets.  He  walked  back  and  forth  on  the 
top  step  for  a  few  moments,  and  then  rang  again. 
This  time  a  window  of  the  second  story  was  cau- 
tiously opened,  and  a  female  head  protruded. 

"  Wait  a  moment,"  said  a  voice,  in  a  subdued 
tone.  "I  will  come  down,"  and  the  head  mysteri- 
ously disappeared. 

"  Something  must  have  happened  !  "  cried  Miss 
Arnold,  no  longer  able  to  conceal  her  perturbation 
at  such  a  strange  reception.  "  What  can  it  be  ?  " 


A   CARPET  KXICHT.  23 

"I  will  go  and  find  out."  said  Mr.  Wilmott, 
with  a  quick  appreciation  of  her  distress  which  was 
comforting.  He  went  rapidly  up  the  steps,  and  the 
cabman  came  back  to  his  horse.  The  next  moment 
the  door  was  opened  by  a  slender  figure  holding  a 
lamp,  and  a  whispered  colloquy  was  held  in  the 
entry.  Then  Mr.  Wilinott  returned  to  the  car- 

"  It  is  all  right,"  he  said.  "  Julia  is  there,  and 
she  is  delighted  that  you  have  come  ;  only  my  uncle 
met  with  an  accident." 

"•  An  accident !  " 

"  Yes.  He  was  thrown  from  his  horse,  it  seems, 
yesterday,  in  the  Park,  and  fearing  the  worst  Julia 
wrote  to  you  not  to  come  until  she  knew  how  badly 
he  was  hurt ;  but  Mr.  Drayton  is  doing  so  well  that 
she  had  already  sent  a  telegram  urging  your  com- 
ing to-morrow.  It  is  odd  that  I  knew  nothing  of 
all  this,  but  I  have  been  away  for  several  days." 

"  How  strange  that  I  did  not  get  the  letter ! " 
said  Miss  Arnold  uneasily. 

"  Oh  dear,  no,  not  the  least  strange.  Letters  are 
delayed  or  go  astray  every  day.  Julia  may  have 
misdirected  it,  in  her  anxiety,  or  more  probably  it 
reached  your  home  just  after  you  left  to-day.  Will 
you  not  let  me  help  you  out  ?  She  is  waiting  for 
you,  and  greatly  pleased  that  you  have  come  so  soon. 
I  have  no  doubt  it  will  be  a  comfort  to  her  to  see 
you." 

"  How  kind  you  are  !  "  said  the  girl  impulsively. 

He  helped  her  out  of  the  carriage  very  gently, 


24  A    CARPET  KNIGHT. 

and  then  followed  with  her  shawl  and  bags,  while 
she  ran  up  the  steps,  and  was  soon  folded  in  the 
arms  of  her  friend. 

"  You  are  a  dear  thing,"  said  Miss  Prescott,  la- 
conically. "  I  am  delighted  to  see  you  !  Bring 
that  trunk  in  very  quietly,  please,  and  put  it  down 
here  in  the  entry,"  she  continued  to  the  cabman, 
who  was  advancing  with  Miss  Arnold's  trunk  on 
his  shoulder.  "  Oh,  he  is  much  better,  thank  you," 
she  added,  in  reply  to  a  hurried  question  about  her 
guardian. 

"  Good-night,  Julia,"  said  Mr.  Wilmott.  "  Where 
shall  I  put  these  things  ?  " 

"  Anywhere.  Don't  go,  Cecil.  Will  you  not 
come  in  and  get  warm  ?  " 

"  No,  not  to-night,  thank  you.  I  will  see  you  to- 
morrow. Good-night ;  good-night,  Miss  Arnold." 

Then,  when  the  cabman  was  paid  and  had  de- 
parted, the  two  girls  were  alone. 


CHAPTER  in. 

"  He  had  not  the  method  of  making  a  fortune." 

GRAY. 

MRS.  DAVERING  was  not  naturally  a  clever  wo- 
man, if  the  word  implies  intuitive  perception  of 
that  which  may  or  may  not  lie  beyond  the  surface 
of  human  nature,  for  she  lacked  insight ;  but  the 
meaning  of  the  epithet  has  been  much  questioned, 
and  in  its  commoner  acceptation  —  that  of  a  person 
who  makes  the  best  of  themselves  —  she  deserved 
it,  for  her  powers  of  observation  were  not  incon- 
siderable, and  of  such  cleverness  as  might  be  ac- 
quired by  a  careful  use  of  them,  at  the  age  of  forty, 
she  possessed  a  fair  amount. 

She  could  not  judge  of  other  people's  motives 
apart  from  her  own,  or  form  any  idea  of  what  parts 
they  would  play  in  entirely  new  situations  ;  but  tak- 
ing herself  as  a  model  (which  she  was  always 
ready  to  do),  and  coming  to  the  conclusion  that  the 
inhabitants  of  this  globe  were  at  bottom  much 
alike,  she  calculated  with  a  good  deal  of  confidence 
how  they  would  or  would  not  act  in  circumstances 
with  which  she  was  familiar,  and  it  chanced  suffi- 
ciently often  that  her  calculations  proved  correct. 

People  thought  her  extremely  well  satisfied  with 
herself  and  her  fortunes,  and  she  chose  to  appear 


26  A   CARPET  KNIGHT. 

so,  because  she  reasoned  that  the  more  prosperous 
any  one  appeared  to  be  the  more  would  that  one 
be  sought  and  admired ;  but  in  reality  she  was  not 
quite  contented  with  anything. 

What  life  had  so  far  offered  she  hardly  deemed 
worthy  of  her  expectations.  It  had  certainly  been 
more  than  fell  to  the  share  of  many  people,  but 
that  was  of  course,  while  it  had  not  been  by  any 
means  all  that  she  would  have  been  able  to  enjoy 
and  turn  to  advantage. 

She  had  married  young  for  love,  and  on  the  death 
of  her  first  husband  had  married  again  for  money. 
She  had  also  secured,  in  this  second  venture,  an 
amiable,  lackadaisical  companion,  somewhat  younger 
than  herself,  who  was  so  rich  that  he  could  afford  to 
treat  his  profession  as  a  mere  gentlemanly  occupa- 
tion yet  she  would  have  liked  him  to  enjoy  the  re- 
spect which  belonged  to  a  man  of  energy  and  ambi- 
tion, and  never  could  understand  why  he  failed  to 
do  so. 

She  was  the  mother  of  several  sharp  little  girls, 
who  had  inherited  her  own  eagerness  in  the  ad- 
vancement of  their  interests,  and  she  woidd  have 
liked  them  to  be  pretty,  which  she  could  plainly 
see  that  they  were  riot.  Above  all,  she  had  a  hand- 
some, reckless  son,  born  of  her  first  marriage,  who 
wras  the  joy  and  the  anguish  of  her  existence.  He 
possessed  a  fine  figure  and  a  magnificent  develop- 
ment of  muscle,  but  was  a  trifle  less  well  endowed 
with  brains.  He  excelled  in  all  active  manly  sports, 
but  had  never  been  able  to  get  beyond  the  simplest 


A    CARPET  KXI'illT.  27 

studies  at  school,  and  when  it  came  to  the  question 
of  an  occupation  in  life  found  himself  entirely  un- 
able to  solve  it.  Yet  he  %vas  indebted  even  for  the 
education  which  he  had  wasted  to  the  bounty  of  his 
stepfather,  and  Mrs.  Davering  knew  only  too  well 
that  some  career  must  be  found  for  him. 

Meanwhile  lie  was  amusing  himself.  Mr.  Dav- 
ering, who,  to  do  liim  justice,  was  as  generous  as 
he  was  rich,  had  made  no  objection  hitherto  to 
meeting  his  bills,  and  Charley  Hazzard  was  known 
far  and  wide  as  the  best-hearted  fellow,  the  most 
careless,  and  the  most  well  meaning  in  existence. 
He  was  a  capital  shot,  a  fine  oarsman,  a  cham- 
pion player  at  lawn  tennis,  much  to  his  mother's 
pride ;  but  she  realized  with  a  bitterness  of  spirit,  in 
strong  contrast  to  the  complacency  of  her  outward 
aspect,  that  these  talents  would  never  gain  him  a 
living. 

What  was  to  be  done  ?  After  pondering  all  the 
possible  ways  by  which  money  could  be  acquired, 
Mrs.  Davering  reverted  to  her  own  experience. 
Why  should  not  Charley  marry  well?  It  was  thus 
that  the  lady  expressed  it  to  herself,  and  then  she 
began  to  lay  her  plans.  If  she  could  only  succeed 
in  finding  him  a  suitable  wife,  one  with  sufficient 
wit  and  judgment  to  balance  his  muscle,  and  with 
sufficient  wealth  to  satisfy  his  rather  expensive 
tastes,  what  a  triumph  it  would  be!  She  cast  her 
eyes  about  her  far  and  wide  on  every  likely  maiden 
of  her  acquaintance,  but  of  all  whom  she  noted 
Julia  Prescott  found  most  favor. 


28  A   CARPET  KNIGHT. 

Julia  was  an  orphan.  That  is  to  say,  her  father 
was  dead,  and  she  lived  with  her  guardian,  at  the 
head  of  whose  table  she  had  been  allowed  to  pre- 
side from  the  time  that  she  was  quite  a  little  girl. 
Chance  had  first  thrown  her  in  Mrs.  Daverin<r's 

O 

way.  In  fact,  they  had  met  abroad  under  rather 
peculiar  circumstances. 

It  happened  that  Mr.  Drayton  was  passing  the 
summer  in  Europe  with  his  ward,  during  one  of  her 
long  vacations,  when  she  was  overtaken,  at  Flor- 
ence, by  a  malarial  fever,  in  consequence,  it  was 
supposed,  of  having  imprudently  gone  to  Rome 
rather  late  in  the  season. 

When  the  girl  fell  ill  Mr.  Drayton  was  at  his 
wits'  end  to  decide  what  to  do  for  her,  but  some 
kind  English  ladies  came  to  the  rescue.  They  sent 
him  a  physician  and  engaged  a  nurse  for  Julia, 
whose  united  efforts,  with  his  own  devotion,  brought 
her  through. 

Just  as  he  was  congratulating  himself  on  her  re- 
covery, however,  and  they  were  preparing  to  set 
out  for  Switzerland  by  way  of  the  Italian  lakes, 
letters  reached  him  from  America  which  made  it 
necessary  that  he  should  return  immediately.  The 
question  what  to  do  with  Julia  again  perplexed 
him  sorely,  and  at  this  critical  moment  Mrs.  Dav- 
ering  glided  upon  the  scene. 

She,  too,  had  been  belated  in  Italy,  and  was 
hurrying  northward.  She  had  met  Mr.  Drayton, 
who  was  a  widower,  more  than  ten  years  before, 
and  hastened  to  recall  herself  to  him,  although  she 


A    CARPET   KMGTIT.  29 

had  not  seen  him  since  the  death  of  his  wife.  He 
was  a  man  whom  women  were  apt  to  remember, 
and  as  his  chid'  charm  consisted  in  a  certain  loveli- 
ness of  nature  time  did  not  impair  it. 

Mrs.  Davering  suggested  that  Julia  should  be 
left  with  her  while  Mr.  Drayton  returned,  and  of- 
fered to  brine:  her  safely  back  to  America  in  the 
autumn,  when  it  was  her  own  intention  to  fly  home- 
ward. She  promised  to  take  her  journey  in  easy 
stages,  such  as  would  suit  the  invalid,  and  as  her 
husband  and  her  son,  with  whom  she  was  traveling, 
were  submissive  in  all  things  to  her  she  commanded 
the  situation. 

.  The  party  of  four  were  thrown  very  constantly 
together  until  they  reached  the  Tyrol,  but  here 
Charley  Hazzard.  who  was  barely  sixteen,  fell  in 
with  a  congenial  set  of  English  boys,  fresh  from 
Eton,  and  fond,  like  himself,  of  making  a  labor 
of  pleasure.  He  accordingly  went  off  on  long 
mountain  excursions  with  his  new  friends,  leaving 
Mr.  Davering  to  smoke  and  talk  politics  in  the 
hotel,  and  his  mother  and  Julia  together. 

On  these  occasions  the  older  lady  would  congrat- 
ulate herself  upon  having  secured  so  pleasant  a 
companion,  and  one  who  could  suit  herself  quite 
easily  to  the  society  of  a  person  so  much  older 
than  herself ;  for  Miss  Prescott,  at  the  early  age  of 
fifteen,  was  acquainted  with  a  great  many  grown-up 
gentlemen  and  ladies  who  were  also  well  known  to 
Mrs.  Davering,  and  her  powers  of  observation  were 
quite  as  keen  as  those  of  her  new*  friend,  who  en- 


30  A    CARPET  KNIGHT. 

joyed  drawing  out  the  girl's  opinions  on  account  of 
their  freshness,  and  was  surprised  at  the  quickness 
with  which  she  saw  into  people  and  estimated  them 
for  what  they  were  worth.  She  often  wondered 
how  one  so  young  had  come  to  be  so  wise ;  but 
Julia  had  not  attained  her  precocious  development 
without  paying  for  it.  There  had  been  an  event 
in  her  life  which  had  given  painful  impetus  to  her 
perception  of  human  failings,  and  had  made  her 
sadly  skeptical  of  sincerity  and  disinterested  good- 
ness. 

She  enjoyed  Mrs.  Davering's  easy  temperament, 
appreciated  her  good  nature,  and  found  a  charm 
in  her  manner  which  many  others  had  felt.  She 
never  talked  of  herself  to  her  new  acquaintance, 
and  would  have  found  little  encouragement  if  she 
had  attempted  to  do  so ;  but  there  grew  between 
them  a  cordial  companionship  which  answered  many 
of  the  purposes  of  friendship,  and,  on  the  whole,  it 
had  worn  well.  In  truth,  Mrs.  Davering  took  good 
care  that  it  should. 

At  last  it  appeared  to  the  older  lady  that  the 
time  had  come  for  action.  Julia  Prescott  was  nine- 
teen years  old,  she  would  soon  be  twenty,  and  Mrs. 
Davering's  son  admired  his  mother's  young  friend 
as  much  as  even  his  mother  could  desire.  Accord- 
ingly she  intimated  to  Mr.  Drayton  that  it  was 
quite  time  for  his  ward  to  enter  society,  and  then 
proceeded  to  suggest  that  she  herself  should  give  a 
ball  for  the  purpose  of  introducing  her. 

He  consented  very  readily,  glad  of  so  pleasant  a 


A   CARPET  KNIGHT.  81 

plan  for  Julia's  presentation  to  the  world,  and  to 
be  himself  saved  an  effort  to  which  he  hardly  felt 
equal. 

Mrs.  Davering  was  delighted.  She  flew  off  to 
break  the  news  to  Julia,  who  would  be  happy,  she 
felt  sure,  at  the  prospect  of  becoming  a  young  lady 
of  fashion.  Perhaps  the  girl  did  not  meet  her  proj- 
ect with  as  much  enthusiasm  as  its  projector  hoped 
for,  but  if  so  her  opposition  was  passive,  and  was 
overcome  by  amusement  when  Mrs.  Davering  pro- 
ceeded to  explain  that  "  coming  out  "  with  a  ball 
was  no  longer  a  commonplace  affair ;  for  most  of 
the  young  ladies  who  found  their  way  into  society 
nowadays  were  like  the  unfortunate  ••  Maria  "  dis- 
-'.-d  iu  "  Punch,"  whose  attractions  were  thought 
only  worthy  of  an  afternoon  tea-. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

"  Oh,  Mirth  and  Innocence  !  Oh,  Milk  and  Water ! 
Ye  happy  mixtures  of  more  happy  days !  " 

BYRON. 

THERE  was  a  great  deal  to  be  said  between  the 
two  girls  on  the  evening  of  Edith  Arnold's  arrival, 
when  they  were  safely  closeted  in  Julia's  room. 
Miss  Prescott  had  to  reassure  her  friend  a  hundred 
times  as  to  the  nature  of  her  guardian's  accident, 
which  proved  to  be  so  much  less  serious  than  she 
feared  at  first. 

"  There  is  no  danger  now,  the  doctor  tells  me. 
Indeed,  there  never  was  any  but  in  my  imagination. 
But  tell  me  how  you  fell  in  with  Cecil  Wilmott," 
she  continued.  "  You  must  have  thought  it  very 
strange  that  neither  Mr.  Drayton  nor  Philip  were 
at  the  station  to  meet  you." 

"  I  expected  Mr.  Drayton,"  said  Edith. 

"  I  would  not  have  had  it  happen  so  for  the 
world  !  "  cried  Julia.  "  You  know  I  telegraphed 
to-day  that  all  was  well,  and  urged  your  coming 
through  to-morrow,  and  I  had  told  Philip  to  be 
sure  to  meet  you  at  the  train  to-morrow  evening." 

"  Philip  is  a  son  of  Mr.  Drayton  ?  "  asked  Edith 
doubtfully. 

"  Why,  yes,  of  course.  Have  you  never  heard 
me  speak  of  him  ?  " 


A    CARPET  KNICHT.  33 

"  Not  that  I  can  remember.  I  was  thinking  as 
we  drove  along  that  I  had  never  heard  you  speak 
of  any  one  but  your  guardian." 

"  That  is  odd,"  said  Julia,  giving  a  speculative 
poke  to  the  sea  coals  in  the  grate,  in  front  of  which 
the  two  girls  were  sitting,  while  a  tray  containing 
several  empty  plates  before  Miss  Arnold  showed 
that  she  had  done  justice  to  her  supper. 

"  Philip  was  away  a  great  deal  when  we  were 
younger,"  resumed  Julia  after  a  short  silence ;  "and 
then  he  is  rather  a  reserved  fellow.  I  do  not 
know  him  very  well,  although  he  is  as  good  to  me 
as  if  he  were  my  brother.  The  family  here  con- 
sists of  Mr.  Drayton  and  Philip  and  myself,  and 
then  there  is  Miss  Kuthven,  Mr.  Drayton's  aunt, 
who  has  come  lately  to  take  care  of  us  all ;  but  I 
am  afraid  she  is  almost  in  despair  of  ever  making 
me  respectable.  You  know  I  always  was  some- 
thing of  a  Bohemian,  Edith." 

"  I  know  that  you  never  were  very  fond  of  obey- 
ing the  powers  that  be,"  said  Edith,  "  but  I  should 
not  think  you  required  any  one  to  make  you  respec- 
table. As  for'  being  respectful,  that  is  another 
matter." 

"  Oh,  I  try  very  hard  to  be  respectful  to  Miss 
Ruthven.  I  could  never  hold  up  my  head  again  if 
I  were  not,  she  is  so  dignified  ;  but  I  sometimes 
sigh  for  the  old  days  when  I  did  just  as  I  pleased, 
without  stopping  to  wonder  what  she  would  think 
of  me." 

"  She  is  a  sort  of  Mrs.  Grundy,  then  ?  " 

I 


34  A    CARPET  KNIGHT. 

"  To  me  she  is,  for  I  have  a  feeling  that  she  does 
not  approve  of  me  ;  but  she  has  the  highest  respect 
for  Mr.  Drayton,  persisting  in  looking  up  to  him, 
although  he  is  her  own  nephew,  and  she  loves  and 
admires  Philip  more  than  any  of  us :  so  you  see 
their  difficulty  consists  not  in  making  her  think 
well  of  them,  but  in  so  conducting  themselves  as  to 
be  worthy  of  the  high  esteem  which  they  inspire. 
It  is  quite  different  with  me." 

"  Why  do  you  think  she  does  not  approve  of 
you  ?  " 

"  It  would  be  hard  to  say.  It  is  as  if  she  knew 
something  which  made  her  very  hopeless  of  my 
ever  proving  to  be  worth  much,  one  way  or  another ; 
but  she  is  the  least  obtrusive  person  in  the  world. 
She  has  come,  of  course  at  my  guardian's  request, 
to  be  a  nominal  duenna  for  me,  but  only  calls  it 
a  visit,  which  she  must  always  be  persuaded  to 
prolong  or  renew.  She  will  have  nothing  to  do 
with  the  housekeeping,  which  devolves  upon  me  by 
common  consent,  and  goes  home  in  the  spring  to 
her  old  house  in  Germantown  very  gladly,  I  think. 
On  the  whole,  I  do  not  doubt  that  she  is  a  neces- 
sary institution.  Now,  Edith,  tell  me  something 
about  yourself.  How  are  your  mother  and  sister  ? 
Was  it  very  hard  for  them  to  let  you  come  away?  " 

"  They  are  both  quite  well,  thank  you.  Ger- 
trude is  always  interested  in  her  painting.  Her 
last  picture  was  much  admired  in  the  exhibition  to 
which  she  sent  it.  I  thought  it  was  too  lovely  for 
anything,  but  then  I  am  prejudiced." 


A    CARPET  KXHiHT.  35 

"  And  is  she  painting  another  one  ?  " 

"  Yes,  she  is  hard  at  work.  I  so  wished  to  see 
her  finish  it !  " 

"  Then  it  was  you  who  found  it  hard  to  come?" 

"Ah,  no,  I  wanted  to  come,  too.  I  was  wild 
witli  delight,  when  your  letter  reached  me,  at  the 
thought  of  seeing  you  and  seeing  something  of  the 
world,  besides.  1  think  it  was  rather  hard  for  them 
to  let  me  come  away,  but  they  will  get  over  that." 

"  Which  do  you  care  for  most,"  asked  Julia, 
"  your  mother  or  your  sister  ?  " 

"  What  a  strange  question  !  " 

"  Tell  me,"  persisted  Julia,  in  an  eager  tone. 

4i  I  cannot  tell  you,"  answered  Edith,  and  then 
added  very  gravely,  "  I  think  perhaps  it  is  my 
mother." 

"  How  I  envy  you  for  having  a  mother !  "  said 
Julia  ;  "  and  a  sister,  too,  for  that  matter." 

Edith  looked  up  quickly  as  though  surprised,  but 
the  words  which  she  was  about  to  utter  were  ar- 
rested by  the  expression  of  her  friend's  face.  She 
knew  that  Julia's  mother  was  not  dead,  although 
her  daughter  did  not  live  with  her ;  she  knew  very 
little  more,  but  she  judiciously  refrained  from  ask- 
ing any  questions. 

In  the  pause  which  followed  Julia  rose,  and  be- 
gan walking  impatiently  up  and  down  the  room. 

"  How  handsome  she  is  !  "  thought  Edith  ;  but 
her  beauty  might  not  have  excited  the  admiration 
of  an  unprejudiced  observer,  although  she  formed 
a  striking  picture  as  she  paced  to  and  fro,  in  a  long 


36  A    CARPET  KNIGHT. 

maroon-colored  dressitig-gown,  with  her  black  hair 
hanging  loose  over  her  shoulders. 

Her  eyes  were  large  and  dark  and  brilliant, 
ready  to  express  anger  or  amusement  most  effec- 
tively ;  but  they  were  not  melting  eyes,  and  rarely 
tender.  They  almost  seemed  to  rebel  against  the 
softer  emotions,  as  though  their  owner,  young  as 
she  was,  had  had  some  hard  experience  of  the  world, 
and  was  determined  to  be  even  with  it.  Her  mouth 
was  large,  also,  with  beautifully  shaped  lips,  over 
which  there  played  too  often  a  touch  of  scorn,  and 
her  manner  of  moving  was  abrupt  rather  than 
graceful,  but  her  friend  watched  her  with  a  keen 
inward  stirring  of  sympathy. 

"  You  do  not  know  what  it  is,  Edith,"  said  Julia 
presently,  "  to  belong  to  no  one  !  " 

Edith  was  silent  for  a  moment. 

"Have  you  not  a  happy  home,"  she  asked  at 
last,  "  and  all  that  money  or  the  world  can  offer,  to 
satisfy  your  tastes  ?  Can  you  not  study  what  you 
please,  and  have  you  not  traveled  almost  every- 
where ?  " 

Julia  smiled  sadly.  "  Hardly  ;  but  if  I  had,"  she 
said,  stopping  suddenly  in  front  of  Edith,  "  would 
you  change  your  mother's  love  for  all  these  things?" 

"  Of  course  not." 

"  And  yet  you  are  a  sensible  little  body,"  said 
Julia,  touching  Edith's  hair  softly  as  she  spoke, 
"  and  you  have  had  to  deny  yourself  some  of  these 
advantages,  which  leads  one  often  more  fully  to 
appreciate  them." 


A    r. I/-/'/-./'   KMliHT.  37 

"That  is  quite  true,"  assented  Edith.  "But, 
Julia,  you  have  your  guardian.  I  am  sure  he  must 
love  you,  from  all  you  have  told  me  of  him." 

"Mr.  I)  ray  ton?  Ah,  yes ;  no  one  knows  what 
he  has  l>een  to  me,  Edith  !  "  she  cried  impetuously. 
"  Without  him,  I  could  have  killed  myself  more 
than  once,  I  believe,  for  very  misery  and  want  of 
patience." 

"•  It  is  strange,"  said  Edith  dreamily,  "  but  your 
face  reminded  me,  just  then,  of  the  way  you  looked 
when  I  first  saw  you." 

"  "When  you  first  saw  me  ?  Why,  that  was  when 
we  were  children,  at  school." 

"  Yes." 

"  How  can  you  remember  what  I  looked  like 
then  ?  " 

"  It  seems  to  me,"  said  Edith,  "  as  if  I  had  for- 
gotten   nothing   connected  with  our  school -days.  » 
They  are  always  coming  back  to  me.    I  often  wish 
that  I  could  live  them  over  again." 

"  Do  you,  really  ?  "  asked  Julia  wonderingly. 
"  I  suppose  your  life  has  been  very  quiet  at  New 
Rochelle." 

"  I  suppose  it  has,"  said  Edith  simply. 

"  And  do  you  actually  look  back  with  pleasure 
to  the  routine  of  school?  "  inquired  Julia. 

"  Not  so  much  to  that  as  to  the  companionship," 
replied  Edith.  "The  life  which  we  led  in  com- 
mon ;  our  jokes  and  our  scrapes,  are  all  pleasant 
to  recall." 

"  I  remember  the  priory,  too,  of  course,"  said 


38  A   CARPET  KNIGHT. 

Julia.  "  What  a  picturesque  old  humbug  it  was, 
with  its  make-believe  Elizabethan  gables  and  its 
stately  trees  !  But  I  cannot  remember  the  time 
when  you  and  I  were  not  friends." 

"  We  began  as  soon  as  we  could,"  said  Edith, 
laughing,  "  for  I  had  just  come  to  school  when  I 
first  saw  you.  It  chanced  to  be  a  rainy  day,  and 
the  girls  were  sitting  about  the  room  rather  de- 
jectedly, or  romping  in  a  noisy  way,  during  the 
hour  for  recess.  I  felt  a  little  strange  among  them 
all,  and  I  noticed  you  standing  with  your  back  to 
the  others,  looking  out  of  the  window.  I  can  see 
you  now  in  my  fancy  as  if  it  had  been  yesterday." 

Julia  laughed.  "  Well,"  she  said,  "  you  are  wel- 
come to  the  charming  vision.  I  was  an  ugly  child, 
I  know." 

"Not  as  I  remember  you,"  cried  Edith  earnestly. 
"  You  were  slight  and  dark,  with  a  broad,  low  fore- 
head, from  which  the  hair  was  drawn  away  and 
braided  in  two  long  plaits  which  hung  down  your 
back.  I  liked  your  looks,  but  you  were  quite  alone, 
and  I  fancied  from  something  in  the  expression  of 
your  face  that  you  had  been  crying." 

"  What  was  the  matter  ? "  asked  Julia  care- 
lessly. "  I  did  not  often  cry." 

"  I  know  it,  and  I  recollect  thinking  that  per- 
haps you  had  had  some  bad  news,  for  I  noticed  that 
you  held  a  letter  crumpled  up  in  your  hand." 

"•  I  don't  know  who  the  letter  could  have  -been 
from.  There  were  very  few  people  who  took  the 
trouble  to  write  to  me,  at  that  time." 


A    CARPET  KXKHI 1.  39 

"  I  (lid  not  know,  either,  and  I  should  not  have 
dared  to  ask  you  any  questions,  for  there  was  an 
iiir  about  you  wlm-h  seemed  to  proclaim  that  you 
wished  to  be  left  to  yourself  ;  but  you  told  me  after- 
wards, when  I  knew  you  well,  that  you  had  had  a 
letter  to  tell  you  that  you  must  pass  your  summer 
holidays  at  the  school,  and  I  always  fancied  that 
this  was  the  one/' 

"  That  was  deep  tragedy  to  a  school-girl,  and  if 
so  the  letter  was  from  my  mother,"  said  Julia,  with 
a  sudden  frown.  ki  She  was  going  to  stay  with 
some  friend,  I  believe,  who  did  not  like  children," 
she  added,  in  an  explanatory  tone.  "  Of  course  to 
spend  one's  holidays  at  the  school  seemed  to  you 
the  most  terrible  of  misfortunes,"  she  continued, 
Attempting  to  return  to  her  former  tone  of  banter. 

"  I  thought  it  was  very  hard  indeed,"  said  Edith 
warmly,  "  and  I  remember  some  of  the  other  girls 
told  me  that  you  had  passed  several  vacations 
there." 

"  And  so  you  took  pity  on  me." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Why,  have  you  forgotten  how  you  and  your 
sister  came  and  insisted  on  my  spending  my  holi- 
days with  you  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no,  I  have  not ;  or  what  trouble  we  had 
to  induce  you  to  come  to  us.  I  think  mamma  had 
to  get  one  of  the  teachers  to  write  to  your  mother 
about  it." 

"  Did  she  ?  I  dare  say.  I  suppose  I  did  not  like 
being  an  object  of  charity." 


40  A    CARPET  KNIGHT. 

"  Charity  !  O  Julia,  it  was  the  happiest  sum- 
mer of  my  life !  " 

"  Well,  so  it  was  of  mine,"  said  Julia.  "  At  least 
it  was  the  first  happy  summer  I  had  ever  known. 
I  have  not  forgotten  your  pretty  home,  or  how  good 
you  all  were  to  me." 

"  Do  you  remember  how  we  planned  and  hoped 
to  be  together  at  Christmas  ?  "  asked  Edith ;  "  and 
then  "  —  she  suddenly  paused,  and  added,  "  you 
went  away,  I  think  about  a  month  before  the 
Christmas  of  that  year." 

"  Yes,"  said  Julia,  quietly.  "  I  went  because 
my  mother  was  married  again." 

Edith  made  no  answer.  The  recollection  had 
suddenly  flashed  on  her  of  how  the  school-girls 
had  whispered  about  mysteriously  that  Julia's 
mother  had  married  an  Italian,  and  perhaps  she 
would  go  abroad  to  live. 

"  I  was  so  much  afraid  that  you  might  not  come 
back,"  she  said  at  last,  shyly. 

"  But  I  came,"  returned  Julia,  in  the  same  quiet 
tone. 

"  Yes,  you  came,  but  you  were  different." 

"How  different?" 

"  I  do  not  know ;  you  looked  older,  and  you 
were  very  reserved  and  grave.  I  remember  you 
told  me  quite  coldly  that  for  the  future  you  were 
to  live  with  your  guardian,  Mr.  Drayton,  and  that 
was  all  you  would  say." 

"  Ah,  yes,"  said  Julia,  with  a  touch  of  bitterness 
in  her  tone,  which  was  evidently  not  intended  for 


A    CARPET  KXIGIIT.  41 

her  friend.  "  I  think  I  was  not  allowed  after  that 
to  spend  my  vacations  at  the  school." 

"  Xo,  or  with  us,  either,  I  am  sorry  to  say,"  re- 
sponded Edith,  smiling. 

After  this  some  one  looked  at  a  watch,  and  de- 
clared that  she  had  "  had  no  idea  that  it  was  so 
late,"  and  after  a  little  more  talking  the  two  girls 
parted  for  the  night. 


CHAPTER  V. 

"  A  man  he  seems  of  cheerful  yesterdays 
And  confident  to-inorrows." 

WORDSWORTH. 

CECIL  WILMOTT  was  a  young  man  of  moderate 
means,  who  had  studied  a  profession  by  way  of 
having  a  nominal  occupation,  but  was  more  often 
found  at  his  club  than  his  office. 

He  was  not  handsome,  but  well  made  and  easy 
in  his  movements,  of  medium  height,  an  excellent 
dancer,  a  ready  talker,  with  a  genial  manner  and 
a  pleasant  smile.  He  was  a  favorite  in  society, 
where,  although  still  young,  he  had  been  known  for 
some  years,  at  the  time  when  he  befriended  Miss 
Arnold  at  the  railway  station. 

He  was  at  breakfast  with  his  mother  and  sister 
on  the  morning  after  this  adventure,  when  a  letter 
was  brought  him  which  evidently  caused  him  much 
annoyance. 

"What  the  dickens  am  I  to  do  about  it?"  he 
said  to  himself  impatiently,  as  he  perused  the  page 
with  clouded  brow,  and  added  aloud,  "  I  don't  see 
what  the  fellow  writes  to  me  for !  " 

"  What  is  the  matter,  Ceci  ?  "  asked  his  anxious 
mother,  from  behind  the  tea-urn. 

"  Oh,  nothing ;  a  stupid  trouble  which  a  man 
has  got  into  about  a  dog,"  said  Wilmott.  "  Give 


A    CAIU'I'.T   KMHIIT.  43 

me  a  good  strong  cup  of  coffee,  so  that  I  may  for- 
get about  it." 

"What  doos  the  man  want  of  you?"  asked  his 
sister,  curiously. 

u  lie  wants  mo  to  help  him  out  of  it,"  said  Cecil, 
"  so  far  as  he  can  be  helped.  I  suppose  that  I  shall 
have  to  do  it." 

"  I  hope  you  will  not  get  into  any  trouble  your- 
self, dear,"  said  his  mother. 

"  Not  on  this  occasion,  I  fancy.  By  the  bye, 
Charlotte,  I  should  like  you  to  go  some  time  to-day 
to  call  on  a  Miss  Arnold,  who  is  staying  with  Julia 
Prescott.  She  is  a  nice  girl.  I  think  you  will  like 
her." 

"  I  did  not  know  any  one  was  staying  with  Julia," 
said  Charlotte.  "  I  was  there  only  yesterday  to  in- 
quire after  uncle  Algernon.  ' 

"  Oh,  Miss  Arnold  was  not  there  then,"  said  her 
brother,  carelessly.  "  She  only  arrived  last  evening. 
I  chanced  to  be  in  the  same  train  with  her  coming 
from  New  York." 

"  Is  she  pretty  ? "  asked  Miss  Wilmott  suspi- 
ciously. 

"  Yes,  rather.  She  has  a  sweet,  fair  face  and  a 
pretty  figure.  How  did  that  accident  happen  to 
my  uncle  ?  I  thought  he  was  too  good  a  rider  to 
be  thrown." 

"  He  was  not  thrown,"  answered  Charlotte. 
"  His  horse  fell  with  him." 

"  A  distinction  without  a  difference,"  said  her 
brother,  with  an  aggravating  smile. 


44  A   CARPET  KNH.1HT. 

"  Oh,  no,  Ceci.  Charlotte  is  right.  There  is  a 
great  deal  of  difference,"  asserted  Mrs.  Wilmott. 

"  As  for  that,"  said  Charlotte,  "  I  have  heard 
Philip  say  that  the  best  riders  are  not  unfrequently 
those  who  are  thrown  the  oftenest." 

"  That  sounds  like  him,"  cried  Cecil ;  "  but  it  is 
a  proof  of  excellence  which  I  should  omit,  and  so 
far  as  I  know  it  is  one  which  Philip  has  not  given 
himself." 

"  True,  Ceci,"  said  his  mother,  "  and  yet  there  is 
no  doubt  of  Philip's  horsemanship;  but  my  broth- 
er, too,  rides  well.  It  was  he  who  taught  Philip, 
and  the  accident  might  have  happened  to  any 
one." 

"  I  am  glad  it  did  not  happen  to  me.  Why  did 
he  undertake  to  ride  in  this  very  slippery  weather  ?  " 
asked  Cecil. 

"  Because  Philip  was  away,"  explained  Char- 
lotte. "  He  had  gone  to  Washington  on  business, 
and  the  groom  told  uncle  Algernon  that  his  horse 
was  kicking  everything  to  pieces,  for  want  of  exer- 
cise in  his  master's  absence." 

"  I  should  have  let  him  kick,"  said  Cecil. 

"  I  believe  you  would,"  replied  Charlotte. 

"  I  forgot  to  ask  you,  Ceci,"  said  his  mother, 
"  how  you  left  the  Pembertons.  Was  William 
very  much  shaken  ?  I  fear  he  must  be." 

"  Well,  he  could  not  be  expected  to  be  very  jolly 
under  the  circumstances,"  answered  Cecil,  "  but  he 
bears  up  pretty  well.  They  have  persuaded  him  to 
drive  out  lately." 


A   CARPET  KM<;ilT.  45 

"  And  how  is  your  cousin  Emily  ?  Redwood's 
death  must  have  been  a  terrible  shock  to  her." 

"  I  thought  she  seemed  very  much  as  usual.  She 
gave  me  a  long  rigmarole  of  a  message  to  you, 
mother,  about  something  or  other,  Heaven  knows 
what  it  v 

"  I  hope  yon  recollected  my  message  to  her  about 
the  breakfast  caps,  my  dear  ?  " 

"  I  am  afraid  I  forgot  it.  I  am  very  bad  about 
messages,  you  know.  I  gave  her  your  love.  Won't 
that  do?" 

"I  suppose  it  will  have  to  do,  but  I  am  very 
sorry  about  the  caps,  for  she  particularly  wanted 
one.  They  are  so  appropriate  for  mourning." 

"  Oh,  nonsense,  mamma !  "  cried  Charlotte  im- 
patiently. "  As  if  cousin  Emily  could  not  get  all 
the  caps  she  wants  in  New  York,  without  sending 
here  for  them  !  " 

The  truth  was  that  Miss  Emily  Pemberton,  who 
was  known  as  a  rather  sour  old  maid,  was  no  fa- 
vorite with  Charlotte ;  and  as  the  uncle  William  re- 
ferred to,  who  had  just  lost  his  only  son,  was  worth 
untold  wealth,  she  thought  he  could  provide  his 
daughter  with  caps  in  or  out  of  mourning. 

"  She  could  not  get  this  special  kind  of  eap,  my 
dear,"  said  Mrs.  Wilmott,  with  quiet  persistency. 
"  There  is  only  one  woman  who  makes  them." 

"  Do  not  worry  alnnit  it,  mother,  dear,"  said 
Cecil.  "  I  will  write  to  uncle  Will,  and  confess 
my  sins,  and  ask  him  to  explain  to  her.  that  it  was 
all  my  fault." 


46  A   CARPET  KNIGHT. 

"My  dear  child,  I  did  not  mean  that  it  was  a 
fault  at  all,"  said  his  mother.  "  I  was  only  thinking 
about  the  loss  of  time.  If  I  write  to  Emily  at 
once  I  have  no  doubt  that  it  will  all  be  right." 
She  rose  as  she  spoke,  making  some  excuse  to  cross 
the  room,  and  paused,  in  passing,  beside  Cecil's 
chair. 

He  put  up  his  hand  and  patted  hers  as  it  rested 
on  his  shoulder  for  a  moment,  and  Charlotte  took 
up  the  newspaper  and  began  to  read.  It  was  easy 
to  see  that  Cecil  was  his  mother's  idol,  and  Char- 
lotte was  a  little  tired  of  seeing  it,  although  she 
was  fond  of  him,  too,  in  her  way. 

Charlotte  was  not  an  ill-natured  girl,  but  a  very 
practical  one,  to  whom  all  forms  of  sentiment  were 
highly  distasteful.  She  liked  comfort,  and  hand- 
some dresses,  and  plenty  of  money  to  spend ;  and 
it  must  be  confessed  that  her  life  was  a  hard  one 
in  that  she  had  none  of  these  things,  nor  had  she 
the  fatal  gift  of  beauty. 

Mrs.  Wilmott  was  a  widow,  who  had  been  left 
in  very  moderate  circumstances  after  her  husband's 
death,  and  had  always  striven  so  successfully  to 
put  the  best  foot  foremost  that  few  persons,  except 
Charlotte,  knew  of  the  existence  of  the  holes  in  the 
other  shoe. 

Charlotte,  who  was  always  with  her  mother,  who 
had  no  regular  hours  for  leaving  the  house  and 
returning  to  it,  as  Cecil  had,  and,  above  all,  was 
not  of  the  same  careless,  easy-going  temperament 
as  her  brother,  knew  all  about  the  holes,  just  how 


A   CARPET  A\\7 <;///'.  47 

many  there  were,  and  Low  large,  and  how  difficult 
to  pat  I'll :  and  yet.  in  spite  of  the  trouble  she  had 
in  assisting  the  process  of  patching,  she  was  as 
anxious  as  her  mother  to  conceal  her  occupation 
even  from  Cecil,  and  did,  after  a  different  fashion, 
quite  as  much  as  .Mrs.  Wilmott  to  spoil  her  brother, 
for  whom  the  two  women  seemed  to  have  formed  a 
plot  to  bear,  or  soften,  all  the  troubles  of  life. 

Cecil  accepted  their  devotion  very  graciously. 
He  was  not  exactly  selfish,  for  he  was  always  doing 
things  for  ot-lier  people;  but  the  things  he  did  it 
suited  him  to  do,  because  he  thought  them  good- 
natured,  and  it  was  rather  a  nobby  of  his  to  be 
good-natured.  He  was  very  self-centred,  and  from 
this  habit  of  mind  was  almost  obtuse  to  much  that 
passed  directly  under  his  eyes. 

He  did  not  notice  that  Charlotte's  hands  were 
red  and  roughened  with  the  cold,  because  in  the 
room  in  which  she  slept,  in  the  third  story,  there 
was  no  fire,  and  the  furnace  heat  was  confined  to 
the  story  below,  where  he  had  a  room,  next  his 
mother's,  on  pretext  that  Mrs.  Wilmott  was  timid 
about  possible  house-breakers,  while  Charlotte,  as 
every  one  knew,  was  strong-minded,  and  not  sub- 
ject to  imaginary  fears.  It  never  occurred  to  him 
to  suspect  the  reason  why  Mrs.  Wilmott  and  Char- 
lotte persistently  refused  broiled  oysters,  and  break- 
fasted on  cold  mutton,  although  there  certainly 
were  not  more  oysters  than  he  could  enjoy.  And 
yet,  as  he  went  down  the  street  to  his  office,  he 
was  meditating  how  to  do  a  kindness  which  had 


48  A    CARPET  KNIGHT. 

been  asked  of  him  by  the  man  whose  request  had 
been  so  unwelcome  as  preferred  in  the  letter  which 
he  had  received  at  breakfast. 

The  profession  to  which  Cecil  had  chosen  to  ded- 
icate himself  was  that  of  the  law.  He  shared  an 
office  with  his  cousin,  Philip  Drayton,  as  they  had 
both  been  recently  admitted  to  the  bar,  and  it  was 
to  break  some  unpleasant  tidings  to  Philip  that 
Wilinott  had  been  chosen  by  a  madcap  of  a  fellow 
whom  they  both  knew,  both  laughed  at,  and  both 
liked,  although  he  was  a  constant  trouble  to  his 
friends,  and  seldom  did  them  any  good  in  return 
for  the  trouble. 

This  was  no  other  than  Charley  Hazzard,  whose 
stepfather  owned  a  country-seat  near  Mr.  Dray- 
ton's,  and  who  was,  of  course,  intimate  with  all  the 
family,  being  the  sort  of  man  whom  one  must  know 
well  or  not  know  at  all.  He  was,  however,  an  old 
friend  of  Cecil's,  and  they  had  been  in  so  many 
scrapes  together  that  it  was  not  unnatural  that  he 
should  have  called  upon  Wilmott  to  help  him  out 
of  this  one. 

"  I  got  a  letter  this  morning  from  Charley  Haz- 
zard," said  Cecil,  plunging  in  medias  res  as  soon 
as  he  had  said  good-morning  to  his  cousin. 

Philip  looked  up  a  little  absently  from  a  paper 
with  which  his  attention  was  evidently  still  occu- 
pied. 

"Yes?"  he  said  interrogatively.  "Oh,  good- 
morning,  Cecil.  I  want  to  have  a  talk  with  you 
about  this  deed  which  Mr.  Turner  has  sent  for." 


A   CARPET  KNTGHT.  49 

"With  all  my  heart,"  said  Wilmott,  "but  I 
must  tell  you  about  Ilazzard's  letter  first." 

••  Well,  what  about  it?     Where  is  Hazzard? " 

"  He  is  at  Wymbleton.  It  seems  that  your  old 
chum,  Carey,  has  just  come  on  from  Boston  to 
make  him  a  visit,  and  he  has  taken  him  out  to 
\\  ymbleton  for  a  little  shooting." 

"  Indeed,"  said  Philip,  with  growing  interest. 
"  I  must  look  up  Carey.  I  knew  he  expected  to  be 
here  some  time  this  winter." 

"  Ilazzard  wrote  to  me  about  a  dog  of  yours. 
Did  you  say  that  he  might  have  one  of  your  dogs 
at  any  time  he  wanted  him,  to  shoot  over  ?  "  asked 
Cecil. 

"  Yes.  Larry,  my  red  setter.  What  is  the  mat- 
ter ?  Is  the  dog  lost  ?  " 

"  No,  but  his  leg  is  broken." 

-  Where  ?  " 

"In  the  woods  back  of  Heronsford." 

"  What  has  Hazzard  done  with  him  ?  " 

"  He  left  him  under  Murphy's  care,  at  the 
house." 

"  When  did  it  happen  ?  " 

"  Early  yesterday  morning.  He  says  he  was  run 
over  by  the  dog- cart,  and  what  he  feels  most  badly 
about  is  that  he  had  taken  the  cart  without  your 
permission." 

"  Let  me  see  the  letter." 

"  Charley  seems  to  be  very  much  cut  up  about 
it,"  said  Wilmott,  reluctantly.  "  He  wants  to  know 
whether  you  think  the  dog  had  better  be  shot." 


50  A    CARPET  KNIGHT. 

"  Shot  ?  "  repeated  Philip  angrily.  "  What  does 
Le  want  to  shoot  him  for  ?  I  should  think  it  was 
enough  to  break  his  leg." 

"  You  had  better  read  the  letter,"  said  Wilmott, 
seeing  that  he  could  do  nothing  farther  in  the  way 
of  interposition. 

Philip  took  the  hasty  scrawl,  in  which  Mr.  Haz- 
zard  had  narrated  the  misfortune  and  the  manner 
of  it,  as  laconically  as  possible. 

"  He  did  not  mean  to  do  it,  of  course,"  said  Ce- 
cil. 

"  When  did  Charley  Hazzard  ever  mean  to  do 
anything  that  he  did  do,  or  mean  not  to  do  any- 
thing that  he  didn't?"  asked  Philip  angrily.  He 
got  up  as  he  spoke,  and  began  hastily  stuffing  some 
papers  into  the  drawers  of  his  table. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  ?  "  asked  CeciL 

"  I  am  going  down  to  Heronsford." 

"  Oh,  nonsense,  Philip !  It 's  not  worth  while  to 
do  that." 

"  I  think  so,"  said  Philip,  quietly.  He  looked 
at  his  watch.  "  I  shall  just  have  time  to  catch  the 
eleven  o'clock  train,"  he  continued.  "  Will  you 
see  Julia  for  me,  and  tell  her  that  I  shall  probably 
not  be  back  to  dinner  ?  " 

"  Certainly.  I  will  see  her  and  give  her  your 
message,"  assented  Cecil,  with  alacrity. 

Philip  crossed  the  room,  and  took  his  coat  from 
a  corner  closet.  Suddenly  he  paused  in  the  act  of 
putting  it  on.  "'There  is  that  deed,  Wilmott. 
Can  I  depend  on  you  to  see  that  it  is  prepared  ?  " 


A   CARPET  KNIGHT.  51 

"  Oh,  depend  on  me  to  any  extent,"  answered 
Cecil,  installing;  himself  in  a  comfortable  leather 
arm-chair  near  the  window,  and  lighting  a  fresh 
cigar. 

"That  deed  must  be  sent  off  to-day,"  said  Philip. 

••  All  right.  I  will  attend  to  it." 

"  There  are  one  or  two  changes  of  boundaries  to 
be  made,''  pursued  Philip.  "  I  will  show  you  what 
they  are." 

"  Are  not  the  changes  indicated  on  the  plot  ?  " 
asked  Cecil,  with  an  impatient  frown. 

"  Yes,  but  they  are  a  little  intricate,"  replied 
Philip,  anxiously,  taking  the  deed  from  the  table 
as  he  spoke.  "  I  had  better  point  them  out." 

"You  had  better  go,"  said  Wilmott,  "if  you 
have  any  idea  of  catching  your  train." 

"  You  are  right,"  said  Philip,  looking  again  at 
his  watch.  "  I  have  no  time  to  lose."  He  replaced 
the  paper  on  the  table  reluctantly,  with  a  troubled 
glance  at  Cecil,  who  had  taken  up  the  "  Times," 
and  seemed  lost  in  its  depths.  "Good-by,  Wil- 
mott." 

"  Good-by,  old  fellow,"  answered  Cecil  cheerfully 
from  behind  the  newspaper,  while  a  huge  cloud  of 
smoke  passed  over  the  top  as  he  spoke.  "  I  hope 
you  will  have  good  luck  with  your  dog." 

By  and  by,  having  read  the  city  news,  dear  to 
the  heart  of  all  Philadelphia^,  and  finished  his 
cigar,  he  rose  and  stretched  himself,  and  settled 
down  with  a  very  much  bored  expression  to  the 
task  Philip  had  set,  of  copying  the  deed.  Many 


52  A   CARPET  KNIGHT. 

were  his  impatient  shrugs  and  vigorous  ejaculations 
at  the  disagreeable  necessity  of  going  without  his 
luncheon,  in  order  to  accomplish  it  and  be  able  to 
leave  the  office  early,  as  he  was  especially  anxious 
to  do  ;  but  at  last,  at  a  little  after  four,  he  folded 
it  up  and  addressed  it  to  Theodore  Turner,  Esq., 
with  an  unusually  virtuous  sensation,  and  then  pro- 
ceeded to  refresh  himself  with  a  glass  of  ale  and 
some  biscuit,  as  the  hour  was  long  passed  when 
luncheon  could  be  found  in  any  sort  of  comfort  at 
the  "  Lunch  Club,"  of  which  Mr.  Wilmott  was  a 
very  popular  member. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

"  Whate'er  he  did  was  done  with  DO  much  eaae, 
In  him  alone,  't  was  natural  to  please." 

DRYDEH. 

AT  luncheon  the  day  after  her  arrival,  Miss  Ar- 
nold was  introduced  to  Mr.  Drayton,  who  made  a 
special  effort  to  appear,  leaving  his  chamber  for 
the  first  time  since  his  accident. 

He  was  a  tall  man,  with  slightly  aquiline  fea- 
tures, and  dark  hair  not  yet  touched  with  gray. 
He  rose  from  a  chair  near  the  fire  when  the  girls 
entered,  and  as  he  came  forward  to  greet  her 
Edith  stood  still  with  astonishment.  He  was  so 
much  younger  than  she  expected  to  see  him  that 
she  looked  about  her  for  a  moment,  doubtful 
whether  this  were  not  the  reserved  Philip,  of  whom 
her  friend  had  spoken  ;  but  a  glance  at  Julia's 
face  showed  that  it  could  be  no  other  than  her 
guardian. 

Edith  was  impressed  with  the  natural  dignity  of 
his  bearing,  perhaps  all  the  more  for  the  pleasant 
mixture  of  ease  and  courtesy  in  his  manner.  He 
appeared  to  her  young,  not  only  in  years,  but  in  a 
certain  sparkle  of  vitality  in  his  dark  eyes  and  the 
unimpaired  elasticity  of  his  step  ;  and  she  was  pro- 
voked with  herself  that,  in  rallying  from  her  sur- 


54  A   CARPET  KNIGHT. 

prise,  she  was  overcome  with  an  untimely  fit  of 
shyness. 

She  felt  her  stupidity  so  much  that  it  was  quite 
a  relief  when  Julia  presented  her  to  an  old  lady, 
dressed  in  dark  gray  silk,  with  white  muslin  crossed 
over  the  bosom,  and  a  tall  white  cap.  This  was 
Miss  Kuthven. 

"  So  she  is  a  Quaker ! "  said  Edith  to  herself, 
with  some  excitement,  wondering  how  Julia  had 
failed  to  mention  so  interesting  a  fact. 

"  I  am  very  glad  to  meet  thee,  my  child,"  said 
the  old  lady,  extending  a  delicate,  withered  hand. 

She  was  small  and  slight,  but  there  was  some- 
thing stately  in  the  way  she  held  herself  and  a 
tone  of  authority  in  her  voice,  not  naturally  a  soft 
one,  which  accounted  to  Edith  for  the  awe  with 
which  Julia  had  spoken  of  her.  Strange  to  say, 
her  own  spirit  slightly  revived.  She  felt  on  her 
mettle.  It  was  evident  that  persons  outside  the 
family  were  not  taken  on  trust  by  Miss  Ruthven. 
They  must  prove  their  claim  to  her  regard.  Her 
small  gray  eyes  met  Edith's  startled  ones  kindly, 
it  is  true,  but  questioningly.  Perhaps  she  was  im- 
pressed, as  Wilmott  had  been,  by  her  air  of  ex- 
treme inexperience. 

"Didst  thou  not  find  it  difficult,  my  dear,  to 
travel  so  far  alone  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Not  very  difficult,"  said  Edith,  smiling  and 
blushing  a  little  as  she  spoke.  "Not  until  I 
reached  my  journey's  end." 

"  Ah,  then  it  was  difficult,"  said  Mr.  Drayton,  — 


A   CARPET  KNIGHT.  55 

**  so  difficult  that  you  must  have  been  inclined  to 
cry  with  Dr.  Johnston,  *  Would  to  God  it  were 
impossible !  '  I  am  very  regretful,"  he  proceeded 
more  seriously,  u  of  the  accident  which  prevented 
me-  from  meeting  you  at  the  station.  It  was  a 
mere  tumble  and  a  scratch  or  two,  but  Julia  was 
foolishly  alanned  about  it." 

"  You  know  that  it  was  a  great  shock  to  you," 
cried  Julia. 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  was  a  little  stunned  ;  but  it  was  not 
worth  while  to  send  letters  and  telegrams  all  over 
the  country  on  that  account." 

"  You  may  say  that  now,  Mr.  Drayton,"  said 
Julia  earnestly,  "  but  if  you  could  have  seen  your- 
self, when  you  were  brought  home  on  Tuesday,  you 
would  have  thought  my  anxiety  very  natural." 

"  Happily  that  is  a  gift  the  gods  deny  us,"  he 
answered.  "  But  I  am  really  very  sorry  that  by  my 
inconsiderate  appearance  on  that  occasion  I  should 
have  caused  Miss  Arnold  real  annoyance  and 
placed  her  in  so  painful  a  position." 

"  I  am  so  glad  you  are  willing  to  admit  your 
want  of  judgment  in  looking  as  if  you  had  been 
killed,''  said  Julia,  demurely.  "  I  will  confess  in 
return  that  I  was  unfortunate  in  writing  to  Edith 
not  to  come,  and  taking  it  for  granted  that  she  had 
received  my  letter." 

Miss  Ruthven  looked  at  Miss  Prescott,  as  she 
made  this  speech,  with  dignified  amazement,  but 
Mr.  Drayton  only  answered  by  an  amused  smile. 

"  I  do  not  know  whether  to  consider  myself  for- 


56  A   CARPET  KNIGHT. 

tunate  or  unfortunate  that  the  letter  did  not  reach, 
me,"  said  Edith.  "  I  am  certainly  very  glad  to  be 
here,  although  I  was  a  little  frightened  last  night." 

"  It  would  have  been  quite  impossible  for  thee 
not  to  foe  frightened,"  said  Miss  Ruthven,  who  had 
seated  herself  with  her  knitting  near  the  window, 
where  Edith  had  noticed  her  when  she  first  entered 
the  room. 

Miss  Arnold  fancied  that  there  was  a  faint  shade 
of  approval  in  her  tone,  and  perceived  with  satis- 
faction that  she  was  engaged  in  the  construction  of 
a  baby's  sock,  which  made  her  seem  less  formi- 
dable. 

"  I  hope  I  did  not  disturb  you  by  my  late  ar- 
rival," she  said,  taking  heart  of  grace  and  sitting 
down  beside  the  old  lady.  . 

"  Thy  safe  arrival  would  have  given  me  pleas- 
ure," replied  Miss  Ruthven  graciously,  a  placid 
smile  momentarily  relaxing  the  rather  stern  ex- 
pression of  her  features,  "  but,"  she  added,  turning 
to  Miss  Prescott,  in  her  more  lofty  manner,  "  I  was 
not  informed  that  thy  friend  had  come,  Julia,  until 
I  learned  it  from  thy  guardian  a  few  moments  ago, 
and  Philip,  who  breakfasted  with  me,  was  equally 
ignorant." 

"  I  am  sorry,"  answered  Julia  carelessly,  "  that 
Edith  and  I  felt  a  little  too  tired  to  get  up  for 
breakfast." 

"  We  will  begin  to-morrow  morning,"  said  Mr. 
Drayton  pleasantly.  "  I  hope  to  be  able  to  get  up, 
too,  if  I  meet  with  no  new  accident." 


A  CARPET  KNianr.  57 

Glancing  about  her  after  they  sat  down  to  table, 
Miss  Arnold  noticed  that  the  general  aspect  of  the 
long  dining-room  was  careless  and  cheerful.  It 
was  in  the  back-building,  as  is  usual  in  old-fa>h- 
ioned  PluTadelphia  houses,  with  another  smaller 
room  at  one  end,  which  opened  out  on  a  veranda. 
The  walls  were  hung  with  small  pictures,  many  of 
them  water-colors.  There  were  a  few  engravings 
and  several  plaques  of  brass  or  painted  porcelain, 
to  say  nothing  of  a  cabinet  filled  with  fine  old 
china ;  one  or  two  easy-chairs,  and  some  small 
tables  covered  with  books  and  papers,  stood  about 
temptingly  near  the  open  fire. 

Luncheon  was  usually  an  informal  meal,  and  one 
of  which  Mr.  Drayton  himself  rarely  partook,  but 
on  this  occasion  the  repast  was  served  with  some 
ceremony  by  an  aged  gray-headed  negro,  who  kept 
his  eye  constantly  fixed  upon  his  master,  ready  to 
obey  his  slightest  gesture,  but  in  no  way  allowed 
this  fact  to  interfere  with  the  solemn  routine  of  his 
duty.  When  it  was  over  Mr.  Drayton  returned  to 
his  library,  a  large,  lofty  room,  opening  with  fold- 
ing doors  into  the  drawing-room,  which  was  also 
very  large,  with  a  high  ceiling,  and  looked  out  on 
the  square,  in  front  of  the  house,  through  two  long 
windows,  between  which  hung  an  old-fashioned 
mirror  with  a  curiously  wrought  frame,  formed  by 
a  vine  of  gilded  flowers  and  leaves. 

The  two  girls  betook  themselves  to  the  drawing- 
room,  from  whence  they  could  see  Mr.  Drayton 
seated  by  the  library  fire  gravely  smoking  his  after- 


58  A   CARPET  KNIGHT. 

noon  cigar.  His  face  was  a  sad  one  in  repose,  and 
looked  almost  stern,  seen  thus  in  profile,  while  the 
smoke  of  the  cigar  curled  up  and  faded  in  the  dim 
vista  overhead. 

"  Will  you  not  play  something  for  me,  Julia  ?  " 
asked  her  friend.  "  I  have  not  heard  you  play  for 
so  long." 

Julia  nodded,  and  softly  closed  the  two  massive 
doors  of  dark  mahogany  which  separated  the  rooms. 

"  Does  not  Mr.  Drayton  like  music  ?  "  inquired 
Edith. 

"  Oh,  yes  ;  when  he  is  well,  he  is  yery  fond  of 
hearing  me  play,  especially  in  the  evening,  but  he 
likes  to  be  quiet  when  he  is  in  the  library,  and,  not 
feeling  very  strong,  we  might  disturb  him." 

She  opened  the  piano,  and  ran  her  fingers  softly 
over  the  keys  until  her  fancy  took  a  definite  shape, 
and  then  she  wandered  into  one  of  Schumann's 
melodies,  with  such  a  clear,  light  touch  that  the 
music  hardly  went  beyond  the  room  they  were  in. 

There  was  a  young  man  at  that  moment  on  the 
front  doorstep,  who  fancied  that  he  heard  it,  but 
then  he  knew  that  it  was  a  habit  of  Miss  Prescott's 
to  seek  to  draw  out  the  lovely  possibilities  of  the 
piano  at  about  this  hour  of  an  afternoon. 

Yes,  the  ladies  were  at  home,  the  old  butler  said. 
"  They  is  jist  amusing  of  theirselves  in  the  front 
parlor ; "  and  knowing  that  Mr.  Wilmott  was  ac- 
customed to  the  ways  of  the  house,  he  left  him  to 
announce  his  own  coming. 

Cecil  paused  on  the  threshold  of  the  drawing- 


A    CARPET  KNIC.IIT.  59 

room,  half  in  doubt  how  best  to  do  so,  and  took  in 
the  scene  before  him  as  an  accompaniment  to  the 
softly  modulati'd  music.  Julia's  was  a  grand  piano, 
and  stood  rather  awkwardly  across  one  corner  of 
the  room,  so  that  the  player  could  sit  with  her  back 
to  the  window. 

There  was  a  sofa  in  the  opposite  corner,  near  the 
other  window,  on  which  Miss  Arnold  had  seated 
herself.  She  was  leaning  back  a  little,  her  pretty 
head  resting  against  a  dark  purple  velvet  cushion, 
which  threw  the  fine  outline  of  her  features  into 
distinct  relief,  and  made  a  perfect  background  for 
her  fair  curly  hair  and  delicate  complexion.  Her 
eyes  had  grown  dreamy  as  she  listened. 

The  sun  gleaming  from  beneath  the  heavy  win- 
dow curtain  crossed  her  lap  in  a  long  shaft  of  light, 
just  where  her  hands  were  lying,  bringing  out  the 
faint  red  tints  between  the  fingers,  and  making  a 
small  sapphire  set  in  a  slender  ring  on  one  of  them 
shine  like  a  star,  while  the  rest  of  the  room  was 
thrown  by  contrast  into  deeper  shadow. 

Presently  Wilniott  advanced  a  step  or  two. 
Edith  started  at  the  sound,  and  rose  in  some  con- 
fusion before  she  saw  him.  Julia  only  glanced  to- 
wards him,  and  recognizing  Cecil  smiled  and  nodded 
to  her  visitor,  without  lifting  her  hands  from  the 
piano.  Mr.  Wilmott  bowed  in  return,  and  then 
crossed  the  room  to  Edith. 

She  had  resumed  her  seat,  and  received  him  very 
quietly,  but  with  a  slight  restraint  in  her  manner, 
caused  by  her  shyness.  Perhaps  he  thought  that 


60  A   CARPET  KNIGHT. 

she  did  not  show  a  sufficiently  cordial  remembrance 
of  his  kindness  to  her,  or  he  may  have  been  him- 
self infected  with  her  want  of  ease,  for  after  talk- 
ing a  few  moments  he  turned  to  the  piano,  where 
Julia  was  still  playing,  but  had  fallen  upon  a  more 
stirring  air,  and  was  rendering  it  with  much  spirit. 

"  I  have  a  message  for  you,  Julia,"  he  said,  when 
she  had  ended,  leaning  over  the  piano  and  speak- 
ing low,  so  that  Edith  did  not  catch  what  he  was 
saying,  while  Julia  played  on  more  softly,  and  lis- 
tened with  the  lids  of  her  eyes  down,  and  his  eyes 
followed  hers,  watching  her  small  brown  hands  as 
they  coquetted  among  the  keys. 

Edith  Arnold  felt  a  sudden  sense  of  loneliness 
and  exclusion.  She  knew  it  was  not  intentional, 
but  for  the  moment  she  seemed  to  be  entirely  for- 
gotten. She  was  prompted  to  leave  the  room,  but 
checked  herself  with  the  fear  that  this  would  show 
what  she  was  feeling,  which  she  was  particularly 
anxious  not  to  do. 

She  gazed  out  of  the  window  drearily  enough, 
until  her  attention  came  really  to  be  distracted  by 
the  frolics  of  some  children  who  were  playing  in 
the  square  opposite. 

"Who  are  you  looking  at,  Edith?"  asked 
Julia's  voice  at  last,  as  the  low  conversation  and 
the  music  ceased  together. 

Edith  did  not  answer  at  first.  She  was  standing 
shaking  her  head  vigorously  at  some  one  outside 
the  window.  Prompted  by  curiosity,  Miss  Pres- 
cott  left  the  piano  and  drew  near  the  window. 


A   CARPET  KNIGHT.  61 

"  What  in  the  world  are  you  doing  ?  "  she  cried. 

"  I  am  slinking  my  head  at  a  naughty  little  boy 
in  the  street,"  said  Edith  excitedly.  "  lie  is  threat- 
ening to  snowball  me,  and  I  am  afraid  he  will 
break  the  window." 

"  Where  is  the  little  boy  ?  "  asked  Julia,  coming 
behind  her  and  looking  over  Edith's  shoulder.  Mr. 
Wilinott  did  not  follow  her.  He  took  up  a  book 
which  lay  half  open  on  the  centre  table,  and  began 
looking  it  carelessly  over. 

At  this  moment  an  old  fashioned  coup6  stopped 
before  the  house,  and  the  coachman,  dismounting, 
opened  the  door  for  an  old  lady  wrapped  in  a  fur 
mantle. 

"  Oh,  there  is  Miss  Kuthven  come  back  from 
her  afternoon  drive,"  said  .Julia.  "  I  must  go  and 
help  her ; "  and  so  saying  hurried  from  the  room, 
leaving  Miss  Arnold  and  Wilinott  together.  Cecil 
continued  to  turn  over  the  pages  of  the  book  he 
had  token  up.  Edith  remained  at  the  window. 

The  little  boy  who  had  attracted  her  attention 
had  come  across  from  the  square  with  a  small 
painted  wheelbarrow  filled  with  snowballs,  and, 
catching  sight  of  her  wistful  face,  had  looked  up 
with  a  mischievous  smile,  then,  growing  bolder, 
threatened  to  pelt  her;  but  having  now  been  di- 
verted by  two  fat  little  girls  walking  sedately  with 
their  nurse,  he  had  begun  to  snowball  them  most 
unmercifully.  Edith  disapproved  very  much  of  the 
want  of  gallantry  of  this  proceeding,  but  she  felt 
powerless  to  interfere. 


62  A    CARPET  KNIGHT. 

There  was  a  silence  after  Julia  went  away,  which 
lasted  for  some  moments.  Then  Cecil  Wilmott 
closed  the  book,  and  sauntered  over  to  where  Edith 
was  standing1. 

"  Is  that  your  wonderful  little  boy  ?  "  he  asked, 
seeing  that  she  was  still  watching  an  active  little 
fellow  in  knickerbockers  and  bright  red  stockings, 
who  was  making  off  in  the  direction  of  the  square, 
apparently  bent  on  replenishing  his  wasted  ammu- 
nition. 

"  He  is  a  very  bad  little  boy,"  said  Edith  de- 
cidedly. 

"  I  am  afraid  you  are  a  stern  moralist,  Miss 
Arnold." 

"  I  don't  know  about  that,"  answered  Edith,  smil- 
ing. "  I  see  the  faults  of  people  I  do  not  like,  very 
plainly." 

"  You  can  hardly  have  formed  a  rooted  dislike, 
in  this  case,  to  the  culprit." 

"  No,  I  confess  that  he  is  interesting,  though 
wicked." 

"  Although  he  threatened  to  snowball  you  ?  " 

"  I  thought  him  a  good  little  boy  until  then." 

Cecil  laughed.  "  I  see  you  are  a  bad  enemy ;  are 
you  an  equally  good  friend  ?  " 

"  I  think  I  am  a  fairly  good  friend,"  said  Edith. 
"  Are  you  ?  "  They  sat  down  on  the  sofa  as  she 
spoke. 

"  To  be  frank  with  you,  I  am  not.  I  am  a  very 
worthless  sort  of  fellow.  I  always  like  people 
either  too  much  or  too  little." 


A    CARPET  KNUiHT.  63 

"  Oh  !  " 

"  I  see  you  have  been  reading  '  Ayala's  Angel,' 
Miss  Arnold.  Is  not  that  your  book,  on  the  table, 
which  I  was  looking  over  7  " 

"  It  is.     How  did  you  know  it  ?  " 

"I  fancied  it  was  the  same  you  were  reading 
yesterday  in  the  railway  train.  Are  you  fond  of 
Trollope?" 

"  Very." 

"And  which  do  you  like  best,  Ayala  or  the 
Angel  ?  " 

"  I  like  Ayala  the  best." 

"  Do  you  not  like  the  Angel  ?  " 

"  I  think  Ayala  was  too  good  to  him." 

"  Too  good  !  How  ?  In  refusing  him  twice  be- 
fore she  accepted  him,  or  in  accepting  him  at  all?" 

"  That  was  very  kind  of  her,  of  course,"  said 
Edith,  smiling ;  "  but  I  meant  after  she  had  ac- 
cepted him.  I  do  not  see  why,  because  the  man 
was  ugly,  she  should  have  been  continually  telling 
him  that  she  adored  him." 

"Oh  !  "  said  AVilmott,  and  as  his  eyes  met  hers 
he  smiled  a  smile  of  the  most  intense  amusement. 

Edith  blushed  hotly  and  became  dumb.  The  truth 
was  that  she  had  happened  to  look  at  Mr.  Wilmott 
in  pronouncing  the  word  ugly,  and  it  suddenly 
occurred  to  her  that  he  was  anything  but  hand- 
some. At  no  time  during  their  varied  experiences 
of  the  evening  before  had  she  seen  him  except 
in  a  faint  light ;  but  now,  as  he  sat  at  the  other  end 
of  the  sofa,  that  from  the  window  fell  full  upon  him, 


64  A   CARPET  KNIGHT. 

and  she  saw  that  his  complexion  was  sallow,  his  eyes 
were  light  and  small,  and  his  features  irregular. 

He  certainly  was  ugly,  and  he  evidently  knew  it, 
for  his  face  conveyed  the  keenest  and  most  cordial 
enjoyment  of  her  discomfiture  ;  yet,  though  in  no 
mood  to  be  charitable,  justice  compelled  her  to  ac- 
knowledge a  certain  charm  in  his  ugliness.  His 
eyes  were  not  wanting  in  life  and  intelligence.  His 
hair,  although  a  dull  brown,  approaching  too  nearly 
the  color  of  his  skin,  curled  in  a  jaunty  sort  of  way, 
and  in  spite  of  his  mouth  being  large,  she  thought 
it  attractive  on  account  of  the  unconscious  play  of 
expression  of  which  it  was  capable,  while  when  it 
opened  it  disclosed  a  row  of  very  white  teeth.  His 
smile  at  this  very  moment  was  delightful,  although 
the  joke  was  at  his  own  expense. 

"  You  naturally  think  that  an  ugly  man  should 
be  continually  adoring  other  people,"  said  Cecil. 

"  I  have  never  thought  much  about  them,"  she 
answered  dryly. 

"  Perhaps  you  never  met  one  before,"  said  Wil- 
mott.  He  was  still  so  full  of  mischief  that  she  did 
not  know  what  he  might  say  next,  and  was  heartily 
glad  that  Julia's  return  to  the  room  at  this  moment 
gave  a  new  turn  to  the  conversation. 

"  What  are  you  two  persons  laughing  about  ?  " 
she  asked  curiously. 

"  We  cannot  possibly  tell  you,"  said  Cecil 
gravely.  "  I  have  bound  Miss  Arnold  to  secrecy." 

"  Then  it  is  a  plot  ?  " 

"  A  very  dangerous  plot." 


CHAPTER  VH. 

..."  Men  only  disagree 
Of  creatures  rational." 

MILTON. 

PERHAPS  there  is  nothing  harder  to  account  for 
than  degrees  of  intimacy  between  men.  They  may 
be  united  in  the  closest  ties  of  relationship  or  inter- 
est, they  may  be  sincerely  and  strongly  attached 
to  one  another,  they  may  live  together  for  years 
under  the  same  roof,  and  yet  not  be  friends. 

The  reserve  which  seems  to  hedge  them  round 
and  keep  them  estranged,  in  spite  of  an  effort  on 
both  sides  to  draw  together,  appears  often  quite 
mysterious,  for  one  honest  man  ought  to  be  able  to 
understand  another,  however  different.  But  search- 
ing for  the  cause,  one  usually  comes  upon  the  un- 
fortunate woman,  who  has  borne  the  sins  of  man 
since  the  time  of  the  creation.  She  may  be  very 
fur  removed,  this  woman,  but  she  is  generally  in 
the  case,  although  neither  man  may  be  conscious  of 
her  influence. 

As  Mr.  Drayton  and  his  son  sat  talking  and  sip- 
ping their  sherry,  after  dinner,  on  the  day  follow- 
ing that  of  Philip's  visit  to  Heronsford,  an  ob- 
server would  have  been  impressed  with  the  con- 
sideration shown  by  each  towards  the  other ;  with 

5 


66  A    CARPET  KNIGHT. 

the  great  respect  of  the  son  for  the  father,  and 
the  ready  acquiescence  of  the  father  in  all  the  son's 
practical  suggestions,  although  not  in  those  opin- 
ions which  were  based  upon  theory,  for  in  these 
they  differed  widely,  but  even  these  were  treated 
with  forbearance. 

Mr.  Drayton  seemed  to  wish  to  be  most  kind, 
and  Philip  most  responsive,  and  yet  the  very  care 
which  both  took  showed  the  absence  of  real  ease  or 
warmth  of  sympathy.  In  truth,  in  a  certain  prac- 
tical habit  of  mind,  a  love  of  thoroughness  and 
method,  an  absence  of  imagination,  Philip  resem- 
bled his  mother  too  much  ever  to  be  entirely  con- 
genial to  his  father,  and,  unfortunately,  Mr.  Dray- 
ton  knew  it. 

Philip  did  not.  He  was,  naturally,  unaware  of 
the  fact  that  his  mother,  who  had  died  when  he 
was  quite  a  child,  had  not  proved  companionable 
to  his  father.  This  minor  misery  had  been  lost 
sight  of  even  by  those  who  suspected  it,  and  tem- 
porarily by  Mr.  Drayton  himself,  in  the  greater 
misfortune  of  her  early  death.  Her  husband  had 
had  a  sincere  affection  for  her,  and  in  the  midst  of 
the  desolation  of  the  first  few  years  of  widowhood 
he  quite  forgot  the  many  lonely  hours,  the  misun- 
derstandings, the  estrangement,  which  had  grown 
between  them  since  their  marriage,  and  remem- 
bered his  wife  only  as  the  handsome,  winning  girl 
whom  he  had  first  met  when  on  a  journey  among 
the  mountains  of  New  England.  He  had  sought 
them  for  rest  and  change  of  air  after  hard  work  in 


A    CARPET  KX1CIIT.  67 

a  hot  city.  In  his  own  estimation  he  was  no  longer 
a  young  man  even  then,  for  although  barely  twenty- 
three  he  had  out li veil  what  he  believed  to  be  the 
one  passion  of  his  life,  having  given  his  early  de- 
votion to  a  very  beautiful,  very  heartless  woman, 
who  had  played  with  it  most  unmercifully.  He  did 
not  think  himself  likely  to  fall  in  love  again,  nor 
could  what  took  place  between  him  and  Miss  Ly- 
man  be  described  as  so  precipitate  a  proceeding. 
They  were  thrown  together  by  circumstances,  and 
they  drifted  into  a  friendship,  enhanced  by  the 
bracing  air  and  the  pleasant  companionship  about 
them.  They  talked  together,  and  although  their 
talk  was  almost  entirely  of  what  they  were  doing 
and  seeing,  of  people  and  things,  it  was  a  refresh- 
ment to  him  from  its  very  simplicity,  because  he 
was  weary  of  his  own  thoughts.  In  an  evil  mo- 
ment he  was  prompted  to  take  the  fatal  step  which 
bound  them  both ;  for  it  may  be  seen  that  such 
an  acquaintance  was  not  thorough  enough  to  decide 
their  destiny,  and  yet  on  the  engagement  which 
grew  from  it  they  were  warmly  congratulated  by 
mutual  friends. 

Miss  Lyman  belonged  to  an  excellent  Boston 
family.  Her  father  was  wealthy,  and  made  a  lib- 
eral settlement  on  her. 

Algernon  Drayton  bore  a  name  which  had  stood 
high  in  the  legal  profession  for  generations,  and  he 
had  not  failed  to  do  it  honor.  In  Philadelphia, 
where  this  kind  of  reputation  was  much  valued,  he 
was  therefore  highly  esteemed,  and  as  he  had  in- 


68  A   CARPET  KNIGHT. 

herited  and  acquired  some  means  he  was  able  to 
support  his  position  in  a  manner  which  seemed 
most  satisfactory  to  his  bride.  But  she  was  unfor- 
tunate in  bringing  some  prejudices  with  her  from 
her  native  city,  and  in  exciting  others  in  his. 

Mrs.  Drayton  thus  failed  to  become  popular.  It 
was  said  of  her  that  she  dressed  badly  and  was 
conceited ;  that  she  had  an  undue  estimation  of  her 
own  importance,  and  lacked  the  consideration  for 
others  required  by  courtesy;  that  she  was  over- 
confident in  herself,  and  had  too  little  confidence 
in  her  neighbors.  In  short,  her  every  fault  was 
noted,  while  her  virtues  were  unsung ;  and  although 
Mr.  Drayton  never  heard  what  was  said,  he  knew 
that  his  wife  was  not  liked,  and  it  pained  him  for 
her  sake,  even  while  he  suffered  himself  from  her 
want  of  adaptability. 

But  these  troubles  were  long  past.  Mr.  Drayton 
had  been  a  widower  now  for  eighteen  years.  His 
wife  had  died  of  diphtheria  after  a  few  days'  ill- 
ness, when  Philip  was  only  five  years  old,  and  her 
sudden  death  had  silenced  all  evil  tongues. 

It  had,  in  truth,  been  remembered  that  she  was 
very  good-tempered ;  that  she  was  loyal  to  her 
friends ;  that  she  was  an  excellent  housekeeper, 
and  a  most  energetic  member  of  such  philanthropic 
societies  as  succeeded  in  engaging  her  interest.  It 
was,  perhaps,  never  understood  how,  coming  from 
Boston,  she  failed  to  be  intellectual,  but  in  this 
respect  she  was  set  down  as  one  of  the  exceptions 
that  proved  the  rule. 


A   CARPET  KNIGHT.  69 

Philip  only  remembered  his  mother  as  a  shadowy 
presence  in  his  childhood,  more  felt  than  seen,  but 
it  is  quite  certain  that  he  missed  her.  What  moth- 
erless child  does  not? 

He  was  a  sturdy  little  chap,  and  his  father  was 
very  fond  of  him  in  an  abstract  way,  but  his  fond- 
ness was  not  quite  personal  in  the  sense  that  he 
felt  more  tenderly  towards  the  boy  when  they  were 
separated  than  when  they  were  together.  For  the 
rest,  Algernon  Dray  ton's  heart  was  an  exquisitely 
sensitive  piece  of  mechanism,  which  its  owner  had 
long  given  up  the  hope  of  understanding ;  but  its 
intricate  action  was  not  impeded  by  this,  and  al- 
though he  did  not  let  it  govern  him  he  did  not  at- 
tempt to  govern  it.  The  fact  of  Philip's  existence, 
as  his  son  and  heir,  was  a  constant  stay  and  com- 
fort, of  which  he  was  quite  conscious,  but  the  fact 
was  all  sufficient.  He  did  not  require  his  son's 
presence,  or  depend  on  his  society,  nor  had  he  ever 
made  much  attempt  at  parental  guidance  of  his 
early  thoughts  and  aspirations,  except  such  moral 
suasion  as  might  result  from  the  example  which 
he  himself  set  of  an  upright,  honorable  career. 

Philip  admired  his  father  all  the  more,  perhaps, 
for  the  difference  between  them.  He  considered 
him  quite  unprejudicedly  the  cleverest  man  he  had 
ever  known,  and  it  gave  him  sincere  pleasure  to 
hear  him  talk,  especially  when  there  were  others 
present  to  lead  him  to  do  so  ;  for  Philip  was  per- 
fectly aware  that  he  himself  had  not  that  happy 
faculty. 


70  A    CARPET  KNIGHT. 

In  the  matter  of  self-confidence  Philip  certainly 
did  not  resemble  his  mother.  He  thought  himself, 
indeed,  rather  a  stupid  fellow.  He  knew  he  could 
learn  things,  if  he  set  himself  to  do  so,  but  that 
was  because  he  had  a  strong  will  and  great  powers 
of  application. 

He  felt  quite  sure  that  he  would  never  originate 
anything,  and  yet  in  spite  of  his  keen  admiration 
for  his  father  he  held,  as  has  been  said,  opinions 
which  were  widely  different.  He  did  not  consider 
himself  responsible  for  these  opinions.  They  seemed 
to  him  necessities,  because  they  were  the  result  of 
careful  reasoning,  and  could  be  logically  explained 
whenever  there  was  time  enough  to  explain  them. 

Mr.  Drayton  had  never  found  time  to  listen  to 
the  explanation.  He  thought  Philip's  opinions  as 
uninteresting,  from  an  intellectual  point  of  view,  as 
poor  Philip  himself,  but  others  who  knew  him  were 
more  appreciative.  His  judgment  was  much  valued 
by  other  men,  and  his  thoroughness  and  consis- 
tency gained  their  respect  as  much  as  his  manli- 
ness, which  was  very  pleasantly  prominent  in  all 
he  did  and  left  undone. 

Such  were  the  father  and  son.  Their  talk,  after 
the  ladies  had  left  them,  had  been  of  a  famous  case 
which  had  at  one  time  occupied  the  attention  of 
the  good  citizens  of  their  town.  It  was  nearly  for- 
gotten by  the  public  now,  but  some  chance  allu- 
sion had  brought  it  up,  and  the  younger  and  the 
older  lawyer  had  instinctively  taken  sides  against 
each  other. 


A  CAnrr.r  KMGHT.  71 

They  both  remembered  the  case  quite  well,  for 
it  was  one  in  which  the  power  of  the  law  had  been 
enlisted  against  the  prerogative  of  the  church. 

A  certain  church  —  or  rather  the  bells  of  a  cer- 
tain church  —  had  been  indicted  as  a  nuisance,  and 
half  the  town  was  iilled  with  indignation,  while 
the  other  half  sympathized  with  the  indicters,  the 
unfortunate  residents  within  too  close  proximity  to 
the  chimes,  of  which  the  reiterated  ringing  was,  as 
they  averred,  so  distressing  to  their  nerves  and  try- 
ing to  their  tempers  that  they  found  neither  peace 
by  day  nor.  sleep  by  night. 

Mr.  Dray  ton  had  always  felt  a  sincere  venera- 
tion for  the  Church,  and  was  rather  a  rare  instance 
of  a  man  the  breadth  of  whose  views  made  him, 
more  firm  on  those  points  where  he  had  formed 
conclusions.  Whether  there  might  not  be  a  form 
of  worship  evolved  for  the  acceptance  of  future 
generations,  which  should  be  less  trammeled  with 
objections  to  the  thinking  mind  than  that  of  the 
Church  of  England,  he  was  not  prepared  to  say, 
but  for  tl*  present  he  accepted  it,  and  was  jealous 
of  every  fragment  of  traditionary  dignity  which  be- 
longed to  it. 

He  cited  the  many  instances  of  persistently  ring- 
ing bells  in  the  cathedral  towns  of  England,  and 
declared  that  if  it  had  been  the  discordant  whistle 
of  locomotives  emanating  from  some  engine  depot, 
protected  by  one  of  the  great  railway  companies,  in- 
stead of  the  tintinnabulation  of  church  bells,  which 
the  rebellious  neighborhood  had  had  to  complain 


72  A   CARPET  KNIGHT. 

of,  they  would  have  found  little  sympathy  for  their 
outcry,  and  no  redress  for  their  injury. 

Philip  was  not  so  stout  a  Churchman  as  his  fa- 
ther, but  it  was  on  no  theory  of  disrespect  to  the 
Church,  as  he  strove  to  explain,  only  on  that  of  per- 
sonal liberty,  that  he  maintained  the  right  of  the 
outraged  neighbors  to  their  protest.  He  said  that 
the  court  might  grant  their  suit  or  not,  as  it  saw 
fit,  but  there  was  no  reason  why  they  should  sub- 
mit in  silence  to  hourly  discomfort  and  annoyance. 
They  certainly  had  a  right  to  object,  and  their  ob- 
jections should  be  listened  to. 

"  On  the  same  ground,"  answered  his  father, 
"  all  the  servants  in  a  household  might  indict  their 
mistress'  baby  for  a  nuisance,  because  it  cried  at 
night." 

"  Oh,  no,"  returned  Philip,  "  for  their  complain- 
ing of  it  would  not  make  it  cease  to  cry." 

"  But  they  would  have  a  right  to  protest,"  said 
Mr.  Drayton  sarcastically.  "  Should  they  bear  such 
inconvenience  in  silence?" 

"The  servants  could  leave  the  situation  if  they 
did  not  like  the  noise,"  replied  Philip  gravely. 

"  That  is  exactly  what  the  inhabitants  of  the 
houses  near  the  church  might  have  done,  if  they 
were  seriously  inconvenienced,"  said  his  father. 

"They  would  be  doubly  injured  in  that  case," 
answered  Philip,  "  for  the  value  of  their  property 
would  be  depreciated  if  they  left  for  such  a  cause." 

"  My  dear  fellow,  the  servants'  characters  would 
go  with  them,  I  assure  you,  if  they  left  for  such  a 


A   CARPET  KXHillT.  73 

cause.  The  mother  of  the  baby  would  see  to  that. 
Do  you  suppose  she  would  not  tell  every  one  that 
she  believed  their  minds  were  deranged  and  they 
hud  no  heart 

"  Ah !  I  see,  sir,  that  you  are  joking." 

It  was  quite  natural  to  Mr.  Drayton  to  give  a 
humorous  turn  to  an  argument  which  seemed  in 
danger  of  becoming  tedious,  but  Philip  always  con- 
tinued to  argue  seriously  after  his  father  had  ceased 
to  do  so,  and  felt  rather  discomfited  when  he  dis- 
covered that  he  had  been  wasting  his  force. 

It  was  no  deliberate  device  on  the  part  of  Mr. 
Drayton.  He  did  not  intend  to  end  the  discus- 
sion, only  to  make  it  more  amusing,  and  expected 
Philip  to  catch  the  spirit  of  fun  as  he  himself 
would  have  done,  but  Philip  was  too  intensely  in 
earnest.  His  father's  lightness  of  tone  annoyed 
him,  not  for  his  own  sake,  but  for  the  sake  of  the 
subject,  in  which  for  the  time  being  he  had  become 
absorbed  ;  and  when  Mr.  Drayton  found  that  they 
were  thus  at  cross-purposes,  he  would  grow  very 
weary.  He  often  was  weary  in  Philip's  society. 

"  You  must  not  misunderstand  me,  my  dear  boy," 
he  said  now,  in  a  tone  which  itself  deprecated  any 
intention  of  wounding  his  son's  feelings  ;  but  the 
spirit  of  mischief  got  the  better  of  him,  and  he 
added,  "  The  truth  is  that  I  was  not  engaged  in 
the  case,  and  that  accounts  entirely  for  my  non-ap- 
proval of  the  indictment." 

"  Not  to  me,  sir,"  rejoined  Philip  stoutly,  "  or 
to  any  one  who  knows  you." 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

"  For,  boy,  however  we  do  praise  ourselves, 
Our  fancies  are  more  giddy  and  unfirm, 
More  longing,  wavering,  sooner  lost  and  won, 
Than  women's  are." 

SHAKESPEARE. 

As  the  next  day  was  very  fine,  with  a  touch  of 
that  softness  in  the  air  too  apt  to  degenerate  into 
dampness  in  the  climate  of  the  Quaker  City,  a 
drive  was  planned  to  show  Miss  Arnold  the  Park. 

Mr.  Drayton,  entering  the  library,  found  all  the 
party  assembled  except  Miss  Ruthven.  Philip  had 
returned  early  from  his  office,  and  brought  with 
him  his  friend  Dr.  Carey,  of  Boston,  who  was 
standir-g  on  the  hearth-rug  talking  to  Julia.  She 
looked  full  of  fun  and  spirit  and  was  ready  equipped 
for  her  drive. 

"  Philip  said  that  he  thought  of  taking  Miss  Ar- 
nold to  the  Park,"  said  Dr.  Carey,  "  but  I  have  not 
the  faintest  idea  who  Miss  Arnold  is." 

"  She  happens  to  be  my  most  intimate  friend, 
but  for  an  introduction  I  must  refer  you  to  Philip, 
who  is  talking  to  her  in  the  other  room,"  replied 
Julia.  "  Are  you  sure  you  are  warm  enough,  Mr. 
Drayton  ?  "  she  asked,  turning  to  her  guardian. 

"  I  am  sure  I  am  a  great  deal  too  warm,  which  I 
suppose  is  as  it  should  be,"  he  answered  resignedly. 


A   CARPET  KNIGHT.  75 

"  And  you  know  you  promised  to  go  in  the  close 
carriage,"  said  Julia.  "  It  is  a  great  deal  safer, 
and.  I  am  going  with  you." 

"  I  am  sure  it  will  not  be  at  all  safe  for  Miss 
Ruthven  to  drive  in  an  open  carriage  at  this  season 
of  the  year,"  remarked  Dr.  Carey  gravely.  "  You 
had  better  let  her  take  your  place  with  Mr.  Dray- 
ton,  and  come  in  the  T  cart  with  us." 

Julia  smiled,  but  shook  her  head.  "  I  am  afraid 
you  need  Miss  Ruthven  to  keep  you  in  order." 

"  I  wish  you  would  come  with  us,"  said  Dr. 
Carey. 

"  So  she  will,"  said  Mr.  Dray  ton.  "  She  only 
wants  to  be  persuaded  a  little." 

"  No,  I  want  to  enjoy  my  drive." 

"  Perhaps  I  am  the  person  who  would  be  unfor- 
tunate enough  to  interfere  with  your  enjoyment," 
returned  Dr.  Carey  stiffly. 

"  How  can  you,  if  I  am  not  in  the  same  carriage 
with  you?  " 

"  If  I  were  you,  Carey,  I  should  pay  her  back 
by  being  exceedingly  disagreeable  all  the  after- 
noon," said  Mr.  Drayton. 

"  It  may  not  be  easy  for  Dr.  Carey  to  make  him- 
self disagreeable,"  remarked  Julia. 

Mr.  Drayton  began  to  laugh. 

"  If  that  is  a  hit  at  me,"  he  said,  "  I  think  it 
is  time  this  party  were  in  motion.  Where  is 
Philip  ?  Why  do  not  you  young  people  get  off  ?  " 

"  Shall  I  look  up  Philip  ?  "  suggested  Dr.  Carey. 
"  I  believe  he  is  in  the  drawing-room." 


76  A   CARPET  KNIGHT. 

"  Edith  is  there,  too,"  said  Julia.  "  They  will 
be  ready  to  start  in  a  moment.  They  are  only 
waiting;  for  Miss  Ruthven." 

O 

"  Pray  who  do  you  consider  young  people,  be- 
sides Philip's  great-aunt,  my  dear  ?  " 

"  I  think  you  are  rather  inclined  to  be  juvenile," 
replied  Julia  ;  and  then  they  both  laughed,  as  they 
often  did,  at  nothing. 

"  Seriously,"  said  Mr.  Drayton,  "  I  do  not  in- 
tend to  let  you  go  with  me,  so  you  may  make  up 
your  mind  to  be  stupid." 

"  Who  are  you  going  to  take  ?  "  asked  Julia,  in 
a  tone  of  genuine  disappointment. 

"Suppose  that  I  prefer  Miss  Arnold's  com- 
pany ?  " 

"  But  you  don't." 

"  I  may  prefer  it,  but  I  am  too  generous  to  mo- 
nopolize her.  I  shall  ask  aunt  Margaretta  to  go 
with  me.  That  will  be  next  best." 

"  Ah  !  I  see  what  you  mean,"  said  Julia,  linking 
her  arm  lovingly  through  his,  "  but  I  would  really 
rather  go  with  you." 

"  Stupid  child  !  "  cried  Mr.  Drayton.  "  It  is 
kinder  that  you  should  go  with  your  friend,"  he 
added  more  gravely.  "  She  will  enjoy  her  drive 
more,  and  it  is  better  for  you  to  be  with  compan- 
ions of  your  own  age."  He  stooped  as  he  spoke, 
and  kissed  her  gently  on  the  forehead. 

This  little  scene  was  not  noticed  by  Dr.  Carey, 
who  was  talking  to  Edith  Arnold  in  the  drawing- 
room,  between  which  and  the  library  the  folding 


A    CARPET  KMfUl  r  77 

doors  were  open.  Edith  had  found  her  old  place 
by  the  front  window,  for  everything  that  happened 
was  a  pleasure  to  her  just  now,  from  its  novelty, 
and  she  was  brimful  of  expectancy  at  the  mere 
prospect  of  the  drive.  The  carriage,  for  which  she 
was  looking  with  some  eagerness,  had  not  yet  ap- 
peared, and  Philip  had  gone  to  inquire  into  the 
cause  of  the  delay. 

Meanwhile,  Lawrence  Carey  had  been  introduced 
to  her.  and  was  making  himself  amiably  stupid,  as 
we  all  feel  it  our  duty  to  do  on  such  occasions.  He 
was  struck,  as  Cecil  AVilmott  had  been,  with  the 
fact  that  she  was  very  pretty. 

"  Is  this  your  first  visit  to  Philadelphia,  Miss 
Arnold?"  he  asked. 

"  Yes,'.'  said  Edith.  "  It  is  my  first,  but  I  hope 
it  may  not  be  my  last.  I  think  it  such  a  delightful 
plaee !  " 

"  You  must  find  it  quiet,  though,  after  New 
York,"  Dr.  Carey  remarked. 

Edith  smiled  to  herself.  Philip  Drayton  had 
introduced  her  to  his  friend  as  "  Miss  Arnold,  from 
New  York." 

u  I  do  find  it  quiet,"  she  answered  wickedly, 
"but  perhaps  I  enjoy  it  all  the  more  £or  that." 
She  wanted  to  hear  what  he  would  say  next. 

"  You  like  the  contrast,"  rejoined  Dr.  Carey 
sympathetically.  "  I  have  heard  that  there  is,  a 
great  deal  going  on  in  New  York  this  winter." 

Edith  laughed  outright.  It  was  not  much  of  a 
joke,  but  it  seemed  to  her  infinitely  funny  that  the 


78  A   CARPET  KNIGHT. 

visit  to  Philadelphia,  which  was  by  far  the  greatest 
event  of  her  hitherto  uneventful  life,  should  be 
looked  on  in  this  light. 

"  Yes,  I  like  the  contrast,"  she  said,  with  a  com- 
placent little  nod  of  her  head. 

Just  then  Miss  Ruthven  appeared,  followed  by 
Philip,  and  the  party  began  to  move.  Mr.  Dray- 
ton  helped  his  aunt  into  the  coup£  first,  and  then 
asked  her  to  wait  until  he  had  seen  the  other  ladies 
seated  in  the  open  carriage. 

"  Where  shall  Edith  sit  ?  "  asked  Miss  Prescott. 

"  I  think  she  will  have  the  best  view  in  front," 
said  Mr.  Drayton. 

"Will  you  not  sit  beside  me,  Miss  Arnold?" 
asked  Philip,  who  was  drawing  on  a  pair  of  dog- 
skin gloves,  and  was  evidently  to  drive. 

"  I  will,  with  pleasure,"  she  answered,  smiling. 
It  seemed  to  her  that  any  seat  in  such  a  pretty  car- 
riage would  be  delightful.  She  looked  at  Philip 
as  she  answered.  They  had  just  stepped  out  upon 
the  pavement,  and  the  glow  of  the  afternoon  sun- 
shine fell  warmly  upon  his  face,  which  was  full  of 
strength  and  energy. 

His  hair  was  straight  hair,  thick  and  dark ;  his 
eyes  gray.  His  skin  seemed  to  have  been  browned 
by  exposure.  His  nose  and  mouth  were  well 
shaped,  and  the  more  strongly  marked  for  the  ab- 
sence of  beard,  whiskers,  or  mustache.  He  re- 
turned her  glance  in  an  open,  manly  way  which 
prejudiced  Edith  in  his  favor. 

"  Then,  Julia,  you  must  get  in  first,"  said  Mr. 


A  CARPI:  T  KMGHT.  79 

Drayton,  helping1  her  into  the  back  seat ;  and  when 
the  others  were  ready  Dr.  Carey  took  the  seat  be- 
side her  with  evident  satisfaction.  The  horses  were 
so  impatient  that  the  groom  could  scarcely  hold 
them,  but  once  off  they  became  quite  amenable  to 
control,  evidently  recognizing  Philip's  hand  as  that 
of  their  master.  In  spite  of  the  spirited  horses, 
however,  the  sunshine,  and  the  pleasant  compan- 
ionship, Miss  Arnold  was  not  very  favorably  im- 
pressed with  the  drive  until  they  entered  the  pre- 
cincts of  the  Park,  and  rounded  the  hill  by  ven- 
erable Fairmont,  when  she  was  delighted  with  the 
varied,  animated  scene  which  opened  out  before 
her.  They  were  not  long  in  gaining  a  road  beside 
the  river,  on  which  they  bowled  along  among  a 
crowd  of  other  dashing  vehicles,  past  trees  and 
pretty  boat-houses,  to  where  their  way  was  cut  for 
them  out  of  a  solid  mass  of  rock,  which  formed  a 
rugged  archway  overhead,  and  the  road  curved 
close  to  the  water's  edge.  Here  Philip  stopped 
for  a  moment  that  they  might  enjoy  the  view  of 
the  blue  river  winding  away  in  the  distance,  with  a 
high  wooded  bank  seen  all  in  shadow  opposite,  and 
a  pale  winter  sky  above  flecked  with  cirrous  clouds. 

"  Oh,  how  charming  this  is! "  cried  Edith.  "The 
natural  scenery  is  so  beautiful !  Where  did  you 
get  such  a  wonderful  park  ?  " 

"  Do  you  really  like  it?  "  asked  Philip. 

"  Of  course  I  like  it.  Is  the  other  side  of  the 
river  as  beautiful  as  this  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Not  quite,"  he  answered.     "  It  is  different,  but 


80  A    CARPET  KNIGHT. 

many  of  tho  prettiest  parts  on  either  side  cannot 
be  seen  from  the  carriage  road.  One  can  only  ap- 
proach them  through  the  bridle  paths.  I  know 
them  well,  I  ride  so  often." 

"  Central  Park  is  a  nice  place  for  riding,"  said 
Dr.  Carey.  "  Are  you  fond  of  riding,  Miss  Ar- 
nold?" 

"  Very  fond." 

"  Then  you  will  perhaps  like  to  ride  with  me 
some  day,  if  we  can  find  you  a  good  horse  ?  "  asked 
Philip. 

"  I  should,  indeed !  "  cried  Edith.  "  I  think  it 
the  most  delightful  thing  in  the  world  to  ride  a 
spirited  horse  through  a  pretty  country,  —  although 
I  have  never  ridden  in  Central  Park,"  she  added, 
with  a  glance  at  Dr.  Carey. 

"  It  is  very  pleasant  to  ask  you  to  do  anything," 
said  Philip. 

"Why?" 

"  You  respond  so  heartily." 

"  That  is  because  you  ask  me  to  do  such  pleas- 
ant things." 

"  I  can  see  that  you  think  them  pleasant,"  he  ad- 
mitted. "  It  is  the  sincerity  of  your  manner  which 
is  so  satisfactory.  I  think  you  would  say  just  as 
frankly  that  you  did  not  like  a  thing,  if  one  asked 
you  to  do  what  was  not  to  your  taste." 

"  But  it  would  not  be  polite  to  express  myself 
quite  so  strongly  in  that  case,  would  it  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Philip.  "  I  am  not  much 
of  a  judge  of  politeness.  I  hate  it." 


A  CAiirr.T  KXiaiiT.  81 

-  What !  " 

"  I  suppose  that  shocks  you  very  much." 

••  Xo,  it  surprises  me.  Do  you  not  like  to  be 
treated  with  civility  ?  " 

"  Of  course,  but  that  is  another  thing.  I  hate 
people  to  be  full  of  airs  and  compliments,  or  else 
so  stuck  up  and  formal  that  there  is  no  knowing 
what  they  really  think  about  anything." 

Edith  laughed.  "I  dislike -that  kind  of  person, 
too/'  she  admitted  :  "  but  as  for  being  full  of  airs 
and  compliments,  I  do  not  know  that  I  object  to 
them  so  much.'' 

"  Do  you  mean  that  you  like  people  who  flatter 
you?  "  asked  Philip,  in  a  grieved  tone. 

"  Oh,  no,"  she  answered,  blushing.  "Flattery  is 
different,  and  there  are  all  sorts  of  ways  of  compli- 
menting, too,  I  suppose  ;  but  a  compliment  may  be 
given  in  an  honest  manner,  which  makes  it  pleas- 
ant to  receive,  I  think." 

Philip  looked  thoughtful. 

"  It  had  not  occurred  to  me  to  make  that  distinc- 
tion, but  I  do  not  know  but  that  you  may  be  right," 
he  said. 

"  It  is  rather  windy  here,  Philip,"  remarked 
Julia,  drawing  her  fur -lined  cloak  more  closely 
about  her. 

"  It  is  a  trifle  bleak,"  said  Lawrence  Carey. 
"  Those  fellows,  by  the  bye,  must  be  having  a 
rather  chilly  time  of  it  in  that  wherry."  He  in- 
dirated,  as  he  spoke,  two  oarsmen,  with  bare  arms 
and  bodies  stripped  to  the  waist  save  for  their 


82  A   CARPET  KNIGHT. 

boating-shirts,  who  were  pulling  rapidly  by,  with 
long,  swift  strokes. 

"  They  are  working  so  hard,"  replied  Philip. 
"  they  probably  scarcely  feel  the  cold.  By  Jove  !  " 
he  exclaimed  presently,  "  do  you  see  who  the  stroke 
is?" 

"  To  be  sure !  "  cried  Dr.  Carey.  "  It  is  Charley 
Hazzard ! " 

Edith  looked  after  the  boat,  and  caught  an  indis- 
tinct impression  of  a  handsome  head,  with  dark 
curly  hair  closely  clipped  and  rather  a  massive 
forehead.  Both  the  rowers  had  gained  a  brilliant 
color  from  the  exercise.  She  had  somehow  man- 
aged to  contract  a  dislike  of  what  she  heard  about 
Mr.  Hazzard,  and  this  view  of  him  surprised  her. 
It  was  different  from  what  she  expected,  although 
what  she  did  expect  it  would  have  been  difficult  to 
say. 

"  What  a  mad  fellow  he  is  !  "  said  Philip. 

"  He  is  a  very  good  fellow,"  said  Miss  Prescott. 

"  Oh !  I  forgot  that  you  always  take  up  the 
cudgels  for  him,"  returned  Philip. 

"  I  never  take  them  up  first,"  rejoined  the  young 
lady. 

"I  think  you  do.  I  had  no  idea  of  attacking 
him." 

"  Nor  I  of  defending  him.  I  was  simply  doing 
him  justice." 

"  So  was  I ! "  said  Philip,  at  which  Edith  laughed, 
and  the  laugh  was  so  contagious  that  Julia  joined 
in  spite  of  herself.  They  were  now  climbing  a  hill, 


A   CAPPET  K\/r;//T.  83 

partly  covered  by  a  wood.  The  carriage  passed  be- 
tween tall  trees,  the  branches  of  which  nearly  met 
overhead,  and  emerged  from  thence  upon  a  broad 
level  road  at  the  top.  As  it  did  so  they  came  in 
sight  of  the  coupe",  which  had  distanced  them  while 
they  enjoyed  the  view,  like  the  tortoise  in  bis  race 
with  the  hare. 

"  I  hope  it  will  not  tire  your  father,  Philip,"  said 
Julia  seriously. 

"  I  believe  you  would  really  rather  have  gone  in 
the  other  carriage,"  said  Dr.  Carey. 

"  It  seems  hard  for  you  to  believe  that,"  an- 
swered Miss  Prescott  serenely. 

At  which  Dr.  Carey  was  mute  with  surprise.  He 
glanced  uneasily  at  his  companion  to  see  whether 
she  really  intended  to  be  rude,  and  perceived  that 
she  was  smiling  the  most  amiable  of  smiles. 

"  I  hope  you  brought  your  flute  with  you,  Dr. 
Carey,"  she  remarked  presently. 

"  My  flute  ?  "  he  repeated. 

"  Yes.  I  remember  how  beautifully  you  played 
it  on  that  Class  Day  evening  which  I  spent  in 
Philip's  room.  Do  you  not  recollect?  Mrs.  Dav- 
ering  went  with  me  on  to  Class  Day,  and  we  took 
tea  with  you,  and  you  and  Philip  showed  us  some 
wonderful  programmes  of  the  Hasty  Pudding,  and 
photographs  of  some  of  the  fellows  dressed  as 
heroines  for  the  different  plays." 

"Certainly  I  recollect,"  answered  Dr.  Carey. 
"  It  was  a  very  pleasant  evening  —  for  us ;  but  I 
do  not  remember  playing  on  the  flute." 


84  A    CARPET  KNIGHT. 

"  Oh,  yes,  you  did,"  said  Julia.  "  Philip  insisted 
upon  it,  and  Mrs.  Davering  and  I  sat  in  one  of 
those  deep,  deliciously  cushioned  window-seats  and 
listened,  and  it  was  a  moonlight  night.  Surely 
you  have  not  forgotten  about  the  flute  ?  " 

"  Ah,  no ;  I  remember  now,"  said  Lawrence 
Carey,  blushing  a  little  at  the  recollection.  "  I  be- 
lieve I  did  play  for  you.  It  was  in  old  Holworthy, 
before  we  changed  our  room." 

"  But  do  you  never  play  on  the  flute  now  ?  " 

"  No,  never.  I  do  not  know  what  has  become  of 
my  flute." 

"  I  should  think  you  would  sometimes  wish  your- 
self back  at  college,"  said  Miss  Prescott.  "  Life 
there  seemed  so  happy." 

"  Most  men  like  it,"  he  answered  ;  "  but  I  think 
I  am  rather  glad  that  it  is  over.  I  can  hardly  im- 
agine wanting  to  live  again  any  part  of  my  life. 
It  is  such  an  unreasonable  thing  to  wish !  " 

"  So  it  is,"  assented  Julia ;  "  but  do  you  never 
want  anything  which  is  unreasonable  ?  " 

"  I  should  be  quite  content,"  replied  Dr.  Carey, 
"  if  I  could  have  all  the  things  which  I  have  a  rea- 
sonable right  to  expect." 

"  I  think  that  you  are  very  fortunate.  The  mere 
fact  that  I  have  a  reasonable  right  to  expect  a  thing 
often  prevents  me  from  caring  about  it." 

"  But  you  would  be  very  sorry  not  to  have  it,  for 
all  that,"  said  Lawrence  Carey. 

"  Do  you  think  that  I  should  ?  I  am  not  certain. 
I  am  not  very  tenacious  of  my  rights." 


A   C  A  It/'/-:'/'  KMGHT.  85 

"Few  women  are." 

"  I  thought  that  it  was  very  much  the  fashion  in 
Boston  for  women  to  insist  upon  their  rights,"  said 
Julia. 

"  Not  as  much  as  it  is  supposed  elsewhere,"  re- 
plied Dr.  Carey,  "  among  the  women  one  meets 
in  society ;  but  granting  that  they  are  more  anxious 
to  make  good  their  claims  than  they  once  were,  it 
is  the  rights  of  women  in  general,  not  any  par- 
ticular woman's  rights,  which  they  advocate.  In- 
dividually they  will  almost  all  of  them  allow  them- 
selves, if  you  will  pardon  the  coarseness  of  the 
expression,  to  be  bullied  to  any  extent." 

"  It  is  rather  a  rough  use  of  words,"  said  Julia, 
"and  I  for  one  should  not  allow  myself  to  be 
bullied.  That  is  a  very  different  thing  from  yield- 
ing one's  rights." 

"  You  lose  them,  all  the  same." 

"  Ah,  yes,  but  in  one  case  you  keep  your  self- 
respect." 

"  I  prefer  to  keep  both." 

"  If  you  are  so  determined  to  have  your  due," 
said  Miss  Prescott,  "  it  would  be  very  awkward  to 
make  a  mistake  about  it." 

"  How  do  you  mean  ?  What  kind  of  a  mistake 
could  one  make  ?  "  asked  Dr.  Carey  blandly. 

"  Might  it  not  be  possible  to  fancy  it  a  little 
larger  than  it  was  ?  "  she  responded  significantly. 

"  Ah  !  in  that  case,"  said  Lawrence  Carey  cool- 
ly, "  one  would  be  obliged  to  make  good  one's 
claim." 


86  A    CARPET  KNIGHT. 

"  How  could  that  be  done  without  the  where- 
withal?" 

"  If  one  had  claimed  more  than  one  deserved," 
said  Carey,  "  one  could  simply  set  to  work  to  de- 
serve what  one  had  claimed." 

"  Ah !  I  see,"  cried  Julia  ;  "  and  if  one  failed  ?  ". 

"I  can  only  refer  you  to  Lady  Macbeth  for 
comfort  in  that  contingency." 

"  But  I  am  not  talking  of  myself,"  said  Julia, 
with  a  light  laugh.  "  I  would  always  rather  claim 
less  than  more  than  my  desert,  for  I  should  not 
enjoy  making  good  my  claim,  as  you  call  it.  My 
experience  of  that  process  is  that  it  generally  in- 
volves the  sacrifice  of  the  rights  of  some  one  else, 

as  in  the  case  of  Macbeth  for  instance." 

• 

"  He  did  deserve  what  he  claimed,  only  chance 
deprived  him  of  it,"  said  Dr.  Carey;  "but  the  stakes 
are  not  so  high  as  his  were,  usually.  Unless  for  a 
kingdom  it  would  hardly  pay  to  commit  murder." 

"Who  talks  of  committing  murder?"  inquired 
Philip. 

"  Who,  indeed?  "  asked  Julia.  "  Dr.  Carey  and 
I  are  just  resolving  to  resist  the  temptation." 

Every  one  laughed,  and  the  conversation  became 
general. 

They  had  made  the  round  of  the  Park,  and  were 
returning  from  their  drive  a  little  early  by  the 
same  road,  Edith  having  begged  particularly  to 
have  another  glimpse  of  the  river  ;  when  she  no- 
ticed a  figure  a  long  way  off  which  she  fancied 
that  she  recognized,  and  on  nearer  view  it  proved 


A    t'J/,'7 'AT   KM i HIT.  87 

to  be  Cecil  Wilraott,  walking  towards  them  on  the 
foot-path  beside  the  road. 

"  I  hoped  I  should  meet  yon,"  he  said,  as  Philip 
divw  up  in  response  to  an  imperative  sign  to  stop 
and  parley.  "  1  found  Charley  Hazzard,  at  the 
boat-house  below  here,  about  half  an  hour  ago,  with 
a  sprained  ankle.  He  slipped  and  twisted  it  as  he 
was  helping  Freeman  to  carry  up  the  boat  they  had 
been  rowing  in,  and  is  in  a  great  deal  of  pain.  I 
heard  you  were  out  driving,  and  that  Dr.  Carey 
was  with  you,  so  I  took  the  chance  of  intercept- 
ing him,  as  Hazzard  is  sorely  in  need  of  his  pro- 
fessional aid." 

"  Thank  you,  Wihnott,  for  coming  for  me,"  said 
Dr.  Carey  gravely.  "  I  almost  wish  I  had  stayed 
with  Hazzard,"  he  added  half  to  himself,  as  he 
jumped  out  of  the  carriage. 

"  It  is  too  bad  about  Charley,"  said  Philip,  "  but 
I  don't  see  how  you  could  have  prevented  the  acci- 
dent, although  one  always  feels  as  if  he  ought  to 
have  some  one  with  him  to  look  after  him.  We  are 
sorry  to  lose  your  company,  old  fellow." 

"  I  am  sorry,  too,  but  will  stay,  of  course,  and 
help  to  get  Charley  safely  home." 

At  this  moment  Mr.  Freeman  drove  up  with  a 
cab  which  he  had  gone  to  summon  for  his  disabled 
comrade,  and  Philip  turning  to  Cecil  suggested  that 
he  should  take  Dr.  Carey's  seat  in  the  carriage,  so 
that  they  were  once  more  off,  at  a  rapid  rate. 

"  Is  Miss  Arnold  to  make  you  a  long  visit  ?  " 
Cecil  asked  of  Julia  presently,  in  a  low  voice. 


88  A    CARPET  KNIGHT. 

"I  hope  so.     Why?" 

"  I  hope  so,  too.>? 

"  I  am  glad  you  like  her,"  said  Julia.  "  I  do 
not  see  myself  how  any  one  can  help  it,  but  then 
women  and  men  do  not  always  have  the  same 
favorites." 

"My  sister  was  sorry  not  to  see  her  yesterday." 

"  r  was  very  sorry  to  miss  Charlotte ;  and  that 
reminds  me  that  Mr.  Drayton  wants  you  both  to 
dine  with  us  to-morrow.  I  sent  a  note  to  Charlotte 
this  morning." 

"  So  she  told  me." 

"  I  hope  you  have  no  other  engagement  ?  " 

"  I  think  not.  '  Not  if  you  are  sure  you  want  me. 
If  I  come,  will  you  put  me  beside  Miss  Arnold  ?  " 

"Of  course  I  will,  if  you  would  like  it,"  said 
Julia,  kindly. 

They  were  passing  a  colossal  bronze  image  of 
President  Lincoln  in  a  sitting  attitude,  which  boro 
an  unfortunate  resemblance  to  that  of  a  negro  min- 
strel. He  looked  very  solemnly  grotesque  in  the 
gathering  twilight,  with  his  long*  plume  pen  ex- 
tended above  their  heads  like  a  warning  finger. 

Here  the  river  road  was  crossed  by  another, 
that  turned  inward  and  passed  round  a  hill  which 
Philip  was  carefully  explaining  to  Miss  Arnold 
had  once  comprised  the  limits  of  the  Park,  and 
they  thus  came  in  sight  of  two  persons  riding  rap- 
idly along  the  converging  road,  to  meet  them.  The 
lady,  who  was  a  little  in  advance  of  her  cavalier, 
was  evidently  very  lively  and  unmistakably  hand- 


A   CARPET  KNIGHT.  89 

some.  She  had  a  brilliant  complexion,  flashing 
dark  eyes,  and  a  beautifully  rounded  figure. 

As  the  carriage  came  nearer  she  perceived  its 
inmates,  and  began  to  smile,  displaying  two  lovely 
dimples,  and  bestowing  a  mischievous  little  nod  on 
Cecil  "YVilmott  as  she  passed. 

"Oh!  who  is  that?"  cried  Edith,  turning  impul- 
sively to  Cecil,  who  blushed  a  little  as  he  answered, 

"That  is  Mrs.  Percy." 

'"An  old  flame  of  yours,  Wilmott,  is  she  not?" 
asked  Philip. 

"  Ah,  yes,"  said  Cecil  indifferently,  "  very  old. 
I  knew  her  before  she  was  married,  and  now  she  is 
a  widow." 

"  How  pretty  she  is !  "  exclaimed  Edith.  "  She 
does  not  seem  very  sad  for  a  widow." 


CHAPTER  IX. 

"  One  science  only  will  one  genius  fit ; 
So  vast  is  art,  so  narrow  human  wit." 
POPE. 

IT  chanced  that  Miss  Arnold,  happening  to  be 
dressed  for  dinner,  on  the  following  Friday,  a  little 
before  dinner-time,  found  her  way  to  the  library, 
which  was  usually  unoccupied  at  this  hour,  intend- 
ing to  await  Julia's  appearance  before  venturing  to 
the  drawing-room.  On  opening  the  door,  however, 
she  was  startled  to  find  Mr.  Drayton  and  Philip 
in  close  conversation.  She  was  about  to  close  it 
hastily  and  withdraw,  when  Mr.  Drayton,  catching 
sight  of  her,  called  out  to  her  to  enter. 

"  Come  in,  my  dear,  I  beg  of  you,"  he  said,  with 
a  parental  air,  which  pleased  her,  as  it  seemed  to 
claim  her  as  belonging  to  the  household. 

"  I  am  afraid  I  shall  disturb  you,"  she  answered, 
still  hesitating. 

"  Not  at  all,"  replied  Mr.  Drayton,  drawing  a 
chair  in  front  of  the  fire  for  her  as  he  spoke. 
"  Philip  was  telling  me  about  some  improvements 
which  he  is  ordering  at  Heronsford,  —  that  was 
all ;  and  I  was  simply  wasting  the  time  in  which  I 
should  be  dressing  for  dinner." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,  for  delaying  you,"  said 
Philip  quickly. 


A    CARPKT  KM d III.  91 

"  I  hardly  know  whether  to  pardon  you  or  not," 
answered  his  father,  laying  his  hand  affectionately 
on  his  shoulder.  "A  young  fellow  like  you,  who 
travels  home  before  me  as  though  walking  for  a 
wilder,  puts  on  his  dress-coat  in  no  time,  and  meets 
me  as  I  enter  my  house,  stupid  aud  tired,  with  a 
long  and  interesting  letter  from  a  carpenter  and 
builder,  every  detail  of  which  he  is  eager  to  sift. 
Do  you  think  that  such  an  offense  as  that  should 
be  permitted  or  forgiven,  Miss  Arnold,  on  the  first 
day  of  my  return  to  the  duties  of  my  profession  ?  " 

He  looked  anything  but  stupid  or  tired,  but 
quite  eager  and  boyish,  Edith  thought,  as  he  stood 
beside  his  son  upon  the  hearth-rug.  Glancing 
from  him  to  Philip,  she  was  surprised  by  the  look 
of  real  pain  in  the  face  of  the  latter.  It  seemed  so 
dispn (portioned  to  the  occasion. 

"  Truly  it  should  not,"  said  Philip  seriously. 

"  But  perhaps  the  letter  from  the  carpenter  was 
very  impoi-tant,"  suggested  Edith  shyly,  with  an 
appealing  look  at  Mr.  Drayton. 

"  Of  course  it  was  very  important,"  he  answered 
good-humoredly,  "  and  so  is  my  being  ready  to  re- 
ceive my  guests.  Therefore,  if  you  young  people 
will  exeu.se  me,  I  will  be  off  to  my  toilet." 

Philip  turned  toward  the  fire  when  his  father 
was  gone,  and  stood  silent  for  a  moment,  with  his 
back  to  Edith;  then  seeming  suddenly  to  realize 
that  this  was  not  very  civil,  he  drew  a  chair  beside 
her  and  sat  down.  She  had  taken  a  magazine  from 
the  table  and  opened  it,  not  wishing  to  appear  to 


92  A   CARPET  KNIGHT. 

notice  him  too  critically.  It  chanced  to  be  a  num- 
ber of  the  "  Century,"  beginning  with  a  humorous 
paper  describing  the  adventures  of  an  erratic  band 
of  artists  styling  themselves  the  "  Tile  Club."  She 
glanced  up  to  see  him  still  looking  despondently 
into  the  fire. 

"Are  you  fond  of  decorative  art,  Mr.  Drayton?" 
she  asked,  not  choosing  her  topic,  in  her  desire  to 
change  the  current  of  his  thoughts. 

"I  am,  indeed,"  said  Philip,  "but  it  is  as  an 
artisan." 

"What  do  you  mean  by  that?" 

"I  mean  that  I  look  at  it,  perhaps,  too  much 
from  its  practical  side." 

"  Then  you  must  be  an  artist  yourself  ?  " 

"  Hardly.  I  am  a  painter,  a  carver,  an  experi- 
menter." 

"I  did  not  know  that,"  she  said.  In  truth  she 
was  very  much  surprised. 

"  I  know  you  did  not,  but  if  I  were  an  artist  I 
think  you  might  have  guessed  it." 
.      "Why?" 

"Because  there  is  something  in  the  look  of  a 
man  who  has  devoted  himself  to  art  which  I  think 
is  unmistakable.  Just  think  for  a  moment  of  all 
the  artists  you  have  ever  known.  Have  they  not 
looked  like  artists?" 

"They  are  not  always  very  clean,"  said  Edith 
reflectively ;  and  then,  suiting  her  humor  to  the 
more  serious  tone  of  her  companion,  answered  de- 
murely, "  I  think  they  have." 


A   CARPET  K.MHHT.  93 

"Why  do  not  you?"  she  asked  presently,  with 
an  amused  smile. 

"  Because  I  have  only  turned  to  the  arts  I  prac- 
tice as  pleasant  occupations.  I  have  taken  them  up 
as  a  diversion  from  my  more  prosaic  profession." 

"  I  thought  you  loved  your  profession." 

"  Not  as  I  ought  to  do." 

Edith  hesitated  a  moment.  "  If  you  love  art 
better,  may  you  not  have  mistaken  your  profes- 
sion ?  "  she  asked. 

"  I  have  just  told  you  that  I  am  a  mere  laborer 
in  art,"  he  said  impatiently.  "  Excuse  me,"  he 
added  suddenly,  with  a  change  of  tone.  "  I  did  not 
mean  to  speak  like  that,  but  my  choice  of  a  pro- 
fession has  always  been  a  sore  point  with  me." 

"  Then  thero  was  a  reason  why  you  were  not 
what  you  would  like  to  have  been  ?  "  she  asked 
quickly. 

It  was  Philip's  turn  to  smile  at  her  earnestness. 

"  Several,"  he  said.  "  Are  you  fond  of  draw- 
ing ?  "  he  asked,  after  a  pause,  by  way  of  carry- 
ing the  war  into  the  enemy's  country. 

"  I  ?  Oh,  no,  I  know  nothing  about  it,  but  I 
always  feel  at  home  with  people  who  do,  because  I 
have  a  sister  who  is  quite  an  artist." 

"  Have  you,  indeed  ?  "  said  Philip,  in  a  tone  of 
warm  interest.  "  What  does  she  like  best  to 
paint?" 

"  She  is  fondest  of  figures  —  portraits,  but  she 
paints  landscapes  too." 

"  Has  she  ever  painted  a  picture  of  you  ?  " 


94  A   CARPET  KNIGHT. 

"  Why  do  you  ask  ?  "  she  answered,  with  a  faint 
blush.  "  I  believe  she  made  a  portrait  of  me  once, 
sitting  on  the  steps  of  our  piazza." 

"  Is  it  a  good  picture  ?  " 

"  It  would  have  been  if  it  had  happened  to  be  of 
somebody  else.  The  view  of  Long  Island  Sound 
in  the  distance  is  lovely." 

"  Why  if  it  had  been  of  somebody  else  ?  Is  it 
not  a  good  likeness  ?  " 

"  My  mother  thinks  so,  but  I  do  not  like  it.  It 
looks  sentimental,  which  I  am  not,  and  the  dress  is 
ugly.  Altogether,  I  think  I  spoil  it." 

"  I  should  like  to  see  it,  and  judge  for  myself." 

"  You  must  come  to  New  Rochelle,"  she  answered 
playfully. 

"  Perhaps  I  shall  come ;  do  not  forget  that  you 
asked  me.  Meanwhile,  would  you  care  some  day  to 
see  a  few  things  which  I  have  gotten  together  in  a 
sort  of  sanctum  of  mine  at  Heronsford  ?  " 

"  I  should  like  to  see  them  of  all  things.  You 
will  not  forget  either  ?  "  she  asked,  glancing  at  him 
brightly. 

"  No,  I  will  not  forget,"  he  said,  folding  a  large 
piece  of  yellowish-white  paper,  as  he  spoke,  which 
had  been  lying  outspread  on  the  table. 

Her  eye  was  caught  by  a  little  sketch  in  pen  and 
ink  upon  the  border,  representing  a  picturesque 
house,  surrounded  by  trees. 

"  Is  that  a  picture  of  your  country  seat?  "  she 
asked. 

"  Yes,  that  is  Heronsford." 


A    CARPET  KMtiHT.  95 

"How  pretty  it  is' 

"  Do  you  really  think  so  ?  I  am  very  glad." 

"  I  should  think  the  house  must  be  lovely,  is  it 
not 

"  Perhaps  I  am  hardly  a  fair  judge,"  he  an- 
swered. "  It  is  the  first  I  ever  planned,  and  I  am 
rat  her  foolishly  fond  of  the  whole  place." 

"  Do  you  mean  that  you  made  the  plan  your- 
self ?  "  she  asked  in  surprise. 

"  Yes.  I  made  it,  and  my  father  was  good  enough 
to  allow  me  to  carry  it  out." 

"  Oh,  will  you  not  let  me  see  the  plan  ?  " 

"  Certainly,"  he  answered,  flushing  with  pleasure. 
"  If  you  will  come  here  I  will  explain  it  to  you." 
He  spread  out  the  paper  oiK-e  more,  and  made  room 
for  lu-r  at  the  table  as  he  spoke,  standing  behind 
her  chair,  and  pointing  out  with  a  pencil  "the 
ground  floor  —  the  second  story  —  and  here  is  the 
room  of  which  I  told  you,"  he  said. 

"  Your  little  den  ?  " 

"  My  little  den." 

"  I  like  the  inside  of  the  house,  too,"  said  Edith. 

"  It  has  its  defects  of  course,"  said  Philip,  with 
an  attempt  to  speak  impartially,  "  although  at  one 
time  I  thought  it  perfection." 

"  Was  that  long  ago  ?  " 

"  Not  very.  It  has  only  been  built  two  years. 
That  was  when  I  hoped  it  would  serve  as  an  opening 
to  future  orders,"  he  said,  with  a  smile  and  a  sigh. 

"  Ah,  I  know  now  what  you  would  rather  have 
been,"  said  Edith,  "  an  architect,  and  I  see  what 


96  A   CARPET  KNIGHT. 

you  meant  about  art.  Of  course  you  only  care  for 
it  in  its  relation  to  architectirre." 

"  That  is  quite  true,"  said  Philip. 

"  What  a  pity  that  you  could  not  have  been  what 
you  wanted  to  be,"  she  said  earnestly. 

Philip  looked  at  her  keenly.  "  Do  you  really 
think  it  to  be  regretted  ?  "  he  asked,  and  his  face 
was  quite  a  study  for  its  complexity  of  expression. 

"Of  course  I  do." 

"  But  many  persons  would  think  the  legal  pro- 
fession much  higher." 

Edith  hesitated  for  a  moment.  Her  sympathies 
were  awakened  by  Philip's  manner  more  than  by 
anything  which  he  had  said,  but  she  wished  to  be 
honest.  "  I  can  understand  their  thinking  that," 
she  said,  "  but  I  meant  that  it  was  a  pity  to  give 
up  what  you  most  cared  for."  She  noticed  .that 
his  face  fell.  "  Do  you  not  think  that  architecture 
could  be  made  a  great  deal  higher  than  it  is  ?  "  she 
asked. 

"  That  is  exactly  the  ambition  that  I  had,"  cried 
Philip.  He  was  radiant.  She  could  not  have  said 
anything  to  please  him  more. 

"  And  why  did  you  give  it  up  ?  " 

"  It  was  my  father's  wish.  He  did  not  think  as 
I  did,  but  desired,  not  unnaturally,  to  have  his  son 
follow  him  in  the  profession  he  most  honored." 

"  But  he  must  have  encouraged  your  taste  if  he 
allowed  you  to  build  this  house." 

"  He  knew  that  I  studied  architecture  abroad. 
He  had  recommended  it  to  me  himself  as  an  in- 


A   CARPET  KXICIIT.  97 

teresting  subject,  a  means  of  general  cultivation, 
and  so  he  was  quite  willing  to  indulge  my  fancy  in 
tin-  house  at  Heronsford  ;  but  when  I  suggested  tak- 
ing up  architecture  seriously  as  a  profession,  he 
looked  upon  it  as  a  mere  boyish  whim." 

"  I  don't  see  why  he  should  have,"  said  Edith 
impulsively. 

'•  He  was  convinced,  to  do  him  justice."  Philip 
answered,  "  that  if  I  did  not  study  law  I  should 
regret  it  all  my  life,  —  as  he  would  have  done  him- 
self, —  and  believed  he  was  acting  most  kindly. 
Curiously  enough,"  he  added,  half  to  himself,  "  it  is 
the  only  instance  in  which  he  has  ever  attempted 
to  influence  me  in  thought  or  action.  But  there 
is  Rodgers  to  call  us  to  dinner,  and  you  must  be 
heartily  tired  of  hearing  me  talk  about  myself." 

The  guests  whom  they  found  assembled  were  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Davering,  Miss  and  Mr.  Wilmott,  and 
Dr.  Lawrence  Carey.  Miss  Ruthven  was  helping 
Julia  to  do  the  honors  of  the  house,  in  the  absence 
of  her  nephew,  who  had  not  yet  made  his  appear- 
ance. They  welcomed  the  advent  of  Philip  and 
Edith  with  no  small  satisfaction. 

"  I  could  not  think  where  you  were,"  whispered 
Julia.  "  Come  here  and  let  me  introduce  you  to 
my  friend  Mrs.  Davering."  And  then  followed  sev- 
eral other  introductions,  and  Mr.  Drayton  coming 
in  a  moment  afterwards,  dinner  was  announced. 

7 


CHAPTER  X. 

"  Where  be  your  gibes  now  ?  your  gambols  ?  your  songs  ?  your  flashes  of 
merriment,  that  were  wont  to  set  the  table  on  a  roar  ?  "  —  SHAKESPEARE. 

IT  is  a  mistake  for  the  lady  of  the  house,  at  a 
dinner  party,  to  place  a  silent  man  on  her  right 
hand,  even  though  in  so  doing  she  may  be  actuated 
by  the  most  disinterested  of  motives ;  and  the  bet- 
ter hostess  she  is  the  more  of  a  mistake  she  makes, 
for  the  unresponsive  person  acts  as  a  sort  of  pad, 
through  which  whatever  effect  her  own  efforts  to 
enliven  the  rest  of  the  company  might  have  is 
deadened.  Miss  Prescott  realized  this  a  little  too 
late  to  profit  by  the  knowledge,  her  guests  being 
seated  and  dinner  begun.  Her  unremunerative 
neighbor  happened  to  be  Mr.  Davering,  and  this 
was  all  the  more  aggravating  that  his  position  at 
table  had  been  a  subject  of  grave  doubt. 

He  was  a  light-bearded,  sleepy-looking  man,  with 
mild  blue  eyes,  and  what  might  be  described  as  a 
stylish  slouch ;  his  profile  would  have  been  hand- 
some, but  that  it  in  some  unaccountable  way  sug- 
gested the  head  of  a  sheep.  When  he  was  amused 
by  anything  he  laughed  very  hard,  and  showed  a 
row  of  very  strong  white  teeth.  When  he  was 
angry,  which  happened  seldom,  he  went  away  and 
sulked ;  but  most  of  the  time  he  was  amicably  un- 


A    CARPET  KXK.flT.  99 

conscious  of  what  was  going  on  about  him,  not  be- 
cause his  thoughts  were  otherwise  engaged,  but 
because  there  was  a  thick  skin,  as  it  were,  over  his 
powers  of  perception  which  things  must  be  very 
pointed  to  penetrate.  It  had  first  been  suggested 
that  he  should  take  in  Charlotte  Wilniott,  and  sit 
on  Julia's  left.  Perhaps  it  was  thought  that  there 
was  some  congeniality  of  spirit  between  Charlotte 
and  himself,  but  it  had  been  realized  that  hi  this 
case,  Mi-s  \Vilmott  and  her  brother  would  be 
brought  side  by  side,  and  Miss  Kuthven  would  be 
obliged  to  go  in  with  her  grand-nephew,  which  was 
hardly  in  accordance  with  the  fitness  of  things,  al- 
though tin-re  could  be  little  doubt  that  the  old  lady 
preferred  Philip  to  any  of  the  rest  of  the  company. 
Accordingly  Julia  had  pronounced  that  Mr. 
Davering  must  take  down  Miss  Ruthven,  and  that 
Philip  would  have  to  take  Charlotte  Wihnott,  and 
place  her  beside  Mr.  Drayton.  -Her  uncle,  with 
whom  Charlotte  was  not  a  great  favorite,  made  a 
mental  wry  face  when  he  saw  this  arrangement, 
but  swallowed  it,  as  he  did  his  raw  oysters,  in  sub- 
missive silence,  deferring  to  justice  in  Julia's  d'x-tn. 
She  certainly  had  not  done  better  for  herself,  for* 
although  Dr.  Carey,  who  had  taken  her  to  dinner, 
was  a  clever  man,  she  had  placed  beside  him  Mrs. 
Davering,  much  too  energetic  a  person  to  allow 
him  to  converse  with  any  one  else  for  more  than 
five  minutes  at  a  time.  Julia  had  intentionally 
given  this  lady  a  central  position,  for  she  knew 
that  she  loved  to  command  the  conversation  as  far 


100  A   CARPET  KNIGHT. 

in  all  directions  as  her  faculties  permitted,  and  that 
on  the  whole  her  effect  upon  a  dinner  was  bene- 
ficial. 

Cecil  Wilmott  had  found  himself  between  Mrs. 
Davering  and  the  young  lady  to  whom  the  dinner 
was  given,  in  the  close  vicinity  of  his  host,  and  the 
happy  necessity  of  lending  an  ear  to  Mr.  Drayton 
gave  him  an  excellent  opportunity  of  observing  his 
nearer  neighbor. 

Miss  Arnold  was  very  simply  dressed  this  even- 
ing in  a  pale  blue  Roman  silk,  the  scarf -like  trim- 
ming -of  which  lent  here  and  there  a  touch  of 
brighter  coloring.  The  faint  shade  of  blue  was  be- 
coming, and  it  was  one  of  those  dresses  which  are 
always  in  fashion ;  a  fortunate  fact  for  Edith,  since 
it  had  belonged  to  her  mother  before  it  had  been 
"  made  over "  for  herself.  She  looked  younger 
than  ever,  a  mere  child,  Cecil  thought,  as  she  sat, 
with  her  eyes  cast  down,  listening  to  Mr.  Drayton, 
and  he  wondered  what  it  was  about  her  which  so 
attracted  him.  Whatever  it  was  he  could  see  that 
other  people  felt  the  charm.  It  was  evident  that 
Mr.  Drayton  really  liked  her.  Cecil  had  seldom 
seen  him  take  so  much  trouble  for  a  young  girl, 
and  as  for  Philip,  his  eyes  were  almost  constantly 
turned  in  this  direction.  Wilmott  was  not  slow  to 
seize  the  first  moment  when  his  uncle  turned  to  say 
something  polite  to  Charlotte  to  address  Edith. 

"  Did  you  enjoy  your  drive  yesterday  ?  "  he 
asked. 

"  Very  much."  » 


A   CARPET  KNIGHT.  101 

"  Were  you  not  rather  surprised  to  meet  me  ?  " 

"  I  think  I  was."  said   Edith  doubtfully. 

"  You  think  you  weiv  '.'  " 

"  Yes.  I  mean  that  that  seemed  a  very  unlikely 
place  for  you  to  be." 

"  And  yet  you  are  not  sure  that  you  were  sur- 
prised to  see  me  ?  " 

"  No,  not  altogether,  because  I  have  almost  al- 
ways seen  you  in  places  where  I  did  not  expect 
you  to  be,"  said  Edith,  looking  at  him  seriously ; 
and  then  seeing  that  he  had  begun  to  laugh  she 
colored,  as  she  had  a  way  of  doing  when  his  eyes 
met  hers. 

"  Shall  I  tell  you  a  secret  ?  "  asked  Cecil. 

M  Must  I  keep  it  ?  " 

"  That  shall  be  as  you  please.  It  is  that  I  walked 
all  the  way  out  to  the  Park  hoping  that  I  should 
see  you." 

She  started  a  little.  "Did  you  really?"  she 
exclaimed,  with  a  look  of  simple  wonder. 

Cecil  smiled.  "  Were  you  glad  to  see  me  ?  "  he 
asked,  in  a  low  voice. 

Pier  manner  suddenly  changed.  She  dropped 
her  eyelids  and  raised  her  head  a  little. 

"  I  am  sure  we  were  all  glad  to  see  you,"  she  an- 
swered. "  Will  you  not  tell  me,  by  the  bye,  who 
that  gentleman  is,  on  Julia's  right  ?  I  think  he  was 
not  presented  to  nu-." 

"  That  is  Mr.  Davering,"  said  Cecil,  speaking  in 
a  guarded  tone.  "  He  is  the  husband  of  the  lady 
on  my  other  side,  so  be  careful  what  you  say." 


102  A   CARPET  KNIGHT. 

"  There  is  not  much  to  say  about  him,"  replied 
Edith,  "  except  that  he  seems  to  enjoy  his  dinner." 

"  He  does  not  say  much  himself,  certainly,"  as- 
sented Cecil.  "  He  is  one  of  those  men  who,  if  he 
does  not  feel  in  a  humor  for  conversation,  sees  no 
reason  why  he  should  talk.  Now  it  is  different 
with  my  neighbor.  You  see  how  persistently  she  is 
drawing  out  Philip  Drayton,  not  because  she  cares 
a  rap  what  he  is  saying,  but  because  she  likes  to 
make  conversation  general,  and  to  hear  the  sound 
of  her  own  voice  in  return." 

"  Mrs.  Davering  is  a  great  friend  of  Julia's," 
said  Miss  Arnold.  "I  have  never  seen  her  be- 
fore." 

"  What  is  the  proper  day  to  visit  Girard  College, 
Cecil  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Drayton.  "  Charlotte  is  ask- 
ing me,  and  I  confess  I  have  forgotten,  if  I  ever 
knew." 

"  I  was  saying,  Cecil,"  said  Miss  Wilmott,  speak- 
ing deprecatingly  to  her  brother  across  the  table, 
"  that  I  should  be  so  glad  if  Miss  Arnold  would 
lunch  with  us  some  day,  and  we  could  take  her  af- 
terwards to  see  the  College.  You  know  it  has  al- 
ways been  considered  one  of  the  sights,  and  there 
are  several  others  which  we  might  see  at  the  same 
time." 

"  Such  as  the  Eastern  Penitentiary  ?  "  asked 
Wilmott,  wickedly.  "  I  have  no  objection,  if  Miss 
Arnold  would  like  to  go." 

"  I  should  like  to  go  very  much,"  said  Edith, 
disregarding  his  tone  of  mockery. 


A   CARPET  KNIGHT.  103 

"  Then  I  will  speak  to  Julia  about  it,"  said  Miss 
Charlotte  Wilmott,  with  an  important  air,  "  and 
Cecil  must  find  out  which  day  it  is  that  visitors  are 
admitted." 

She  was  evidently  greatly  pleased,  and  Edith  felt 
a  touch  of  kindly  compassion  for  the  unattractive 
girl  whose  pleasures,  as  she  guessed,  were  not  fre- 
quent. 

"  I  must  tell  you  the  last  achievement  of  Oscar 
Wilde,"  said  Mrs.  Davering,  turning  to  Cecil  with 
an  air  of  confident  possession.  She  had  been  the 
round  of  the  table  and  was  in  a  happy  mood.  Only 
her  husband  had  escaped  unchallenged,  and  he 
seemed  quite  to  revel  in  his  immunity.  Julia  had 
tried  every  conceivable  topic  with  him  and  had 
given  up  in  despair.  She  was  not  sorry,  therefore, 
to  find  that  Mrs.  Davering  had  left  Dr.  Carey 
once  more  at  liberty. 

"  How  is  Mr.  Hazzard  to-day  ?  "  she  asked.  "  My 
uncle  was  so  sorry  that  his  accident  would  prevent 
us  from  seeing  him." 

"  Oh,  he  is  better.  He  is  really  doing  very  well, 
only  he  must  be  quiet,  and  that  you  know  is  espe- 
eiully  difficult  for  him." 

"  It  is  very  fortunate  that  you  happen  to  be  with 
him  to  take  care  of  him." 

"  He  says  he  is  glad  to  have  me,  and  is  always 
urging  me  to  prolong  my  visit,  but  what  possible 
good  I  do  him,  I  fail  to  see.  He  is  a  very  bad  pa- 
tient, and  as  a  friend,  one  of  the  hardest  men  to 
amuse  I  ever  saw.  He  hates  to  be  read  aloud  to, 


104  A   CARPET  KNIGHT. 

and  does  not  care  a  snap  about  any  of  the  ordinary 
games  which  I  have  ever  heard  of  being  used  to 
divert  invalids." 

"  He  likes  to  talk,  I  suppose." 

"  Yes,  he  likes  to  talk  and  smoke,  and  is  very 
fond  of  poker,  but  one  cannot  play  poker  forever." 

"  Why  do  you  not  send  for  your  flute  ?  "  ex- 
claimed Julia.  "  It  would  be  just  the  thing !  " 

Dr.  Carey  laughed.  "  That  flute  seems  to  have 
made  an  unfortunate  impression  on  your  mind, 
Miss  Prescott.  To  be  frank  with  you,  I  fancy  that 
if  I  did  send  for  it,  Mr.  Hazzard  would  cease  to 
urge  my  neglecting  my  lucrative  practice  at  home. 
How  very  charmingly,  by  the  bye,  your  little  New 
York  friend  looks  this  evening." 

"  Miss  Arnold  ?  Yes,  she  does  look  very  lovely, 
does  she  not  ?  "  said  Julia,  glancing  down  the  table. 
"  And  Mr.  Drayton,  too,  looks  wonderfully  well," 
she  added,  proudly,  "  I  do  not  think  any  one  would 
guess  that  he  had  been  ill  so  lately." 

"  Are  you  speaking  of  Mr.  Draytoji  ?  "  asked 
Mrs.  Davering,  catching  the  last  words.  "  I  was 
saying  just  now  to  Mr.  Wilmott,  that  I  had  never 
seen  him  looking  better,  but  then  he  is  really  a 
comparatively  young  man,  as  I  happen  to  know. 
He  and  Buchanan  were  classmates,  and  I  believe 
Mr.  Drayton  is  barely  forty-eight.  It  is  really 
rather  hard  on  him  to  have  such  a  sedate-looking 
person  as  Philip  to  present  as  his  son,  for  of  the 
two,  I  sometimes  think  that  Mr.  Drayton  looks  the 
younger." 


A  CARPET  K\/t:/n:  105 

Julia  laughed.  "  Philip  is  certainly  rather 
graver  looking  than  his  years,"  she  said.  "  I  can 
hardly  believe  that  he  is  only  four  years  older  than 
I  am." 

"  Nor  I,"  said  Dr.  Carey,  looking  steadily  away 
from  Miss  Prescott  as  he  spoke,  by  way  of  render- 
ing the  remark  impersonal.  "  Philip  was  always 
a  little  old  for  his  age,"  he  added,  "  even  at  col- 
lege." 

"  Speaking  of  college,"  cried  Mrs.  Davering, 
"you  must  tell  me  all  about  the  Greek  play  at 
Harvard.  What  was  it  like?  Could  one  really 
sit  through  it  with  any  comfort,  or  were  you  bored 
to  death?" 

"  I  individually  was  not,"  said  Lawrence  Carey, 
and  being  further  questioned  by  the  lady,  gave 
quite  a  fine  description  of  the  manner  in  which  the 
CEdipus  of  ^Eschylus  had  been  brought  out  by  stu- 
dents and  graduates  in  Cambridge  that  winter. 
They  thus  all  three  talked  on  until  the  last  course 
had  been  served,  for  Mrs.  Davering  perceived  with 
uneasiness,  that  Dr.  Carey  was  inclined  to  admire 
Miss  Prescott,  and  it  was  her  object  to  prevent  the 
conversation  from  relapsing  into  a  tete-d-tete  be- 
tween them. 

It  seemed  to  her  a  hard  stroke  of  fortune,  which 
had  not  only  rendered  her  own  son  unfit  for  the 
combat,  but  detained  this  dangerous  Bostonian  on 
the  scene  just  at  a  moment  when  Charley's  loss 
was  his  gain.  That  Charley  himself  should  be  the 
only  person  to  blame  for  the  whole  situation  was 


106  A   CARPET  KNIGHT. 

natural,  his  mother  admitted  to  herself,  but  all  the 
more  aggravating. 

When  the  ices  appeared  it  occurred  to  her  that 
she  would  like  to  hear  Mr.  Dray  ton's  opinion  of 
the  last  attempted  assassination  of  the  queen,  not 
an  old  topic  then,  as  now,  but  one  which  had  been 
very  thoroughly  canvassed.  Julia  had  suggested 
it  in  desperation  to  Mr.  Davering  d  propos  des 
bottes,  and  that  worthy  gentleman  had  disposed  of 
the  whole  matter  in  the  one  word  "  outrageous." 

His  wife's  mind  was  not  so  easily  set  at  rest. 
She  felt  sure  that  Mr.  Drayton  could  throw  new 
light  upon  the  motives  of  the  assassin. 

"  Did  he  think  he  had  been  a  nihilist,  or  an  Irish 
leaguer  ?  "  she  asked,  with  interest,  "  or  did  he  be- 
lieve that  story  about  the  man's  being  hungry  ? 
What  possible  good  could  Queen  Victoria's  life  be 
to  a  hungry  man  ?  He  had  better  have  stolen  her 
dinner." 

"  My  dear  lady,  all  is  quite  well  known  about 
the  fellow,"  said  her  host,  proceeding  to  give  a 
short  account  of  MacLean. 

"  Do  you  know,  I  felt  very  sorry  for  that  man," 
said  Miss  Arnold,  in  a  tone  which  only  reached  one 
of  her  neighbors. 

"  Why  did  you  feel  sorry  for  him  ?  "  asked  Cecil. 

"  Because,  as  Mrs.  Davering  says,  there  was 
nothing  to  be  gained  by  what  he  did,  and  I  think 
he  must  have  been  so  terribly  at  odds  with  all  the 
world,  before  he  was  driven  to  such  an  act  of  mad- 
ness." 


A   CARPET  KNHU1T.  107 

"  Do  you  not  think  it  was  rather  cowardly  to  at- 
tempt the  life  of  a  woman  ?  " 

u  Of  course,  such  attempts  are  always  cowardly, 
when  considered,  whether  on  the  life  of  a  man  or 
a  woman,  but  I  do  not  believe  that  this  poor  wretch 
gave  himself  time  to  consider,  or  that  he  thought 
of  the  queen  as  a  woman,  but  only  as  a  queen." 

She  did  not  notice  that  Mrs.  Davering  and  Mr. 
Drayton  had  paused  to  listen  to  what  she  was  say- 
ing. 

"  You  would  make  an  able  advocate,  Miss  Ar- 
nold," said  Mr.  Drayton.  "  I  neve'r  heard  a  bad 
cause  better  defended." 

"  Would  you  consider  that  you  had  done  very 
well  for  your  cause,"  she  asked  shyly,  "  if  when 
you  ended  people  still  thought  it  bad  ?  " 

"  I  will  answer  you  like  the  clown  in  '  Hamlet,'  " 
he  said,  mischievously.  "  '  The  gallows  does  well 
for  those  who  do  ill.'  " 

"  That  reminds  me,  Mr.  Drayton,  of  what  a 
friend  of  mine  was  telling  me  the  other  day  about 
your  acting.  She  said  she  remembered  seeing  you 
act  Malvolio  in  '  Twelfth  Night,'  in  some  private 
theatricals,  a  great  many  years  ago,  and  that  it 
was  inimitable." 

"  Your  friend  must  be  a  very  old  lady,"  said  Mr. 
Drayton,  "  but  pray  do  not  tell  her  that  I  said  so." 
"  Oh,  she  is  quite  beyond  caring  what  people 
say  about  her  age,"  said  Mrs.  Davering,  "  provided 
they  defer  to  her  opinion,  which  they  almost  al- 
ways do," 


108  A    CARPET  KNIGHT. 

"  I  wonder  if  I  do  not  know  about  whom  you 
are  talking  ?  "  asked  Cecil. 

"  I  fancy  you  do,"  said  Mrs.  Davering,  laughing. 
"  I  went  to  consult  your  mother  with  regard  to 
some  private  theatricals  which  I  was  thinking  of 
getting  up  myself.  You  know  she  has  so  much 
judgment  about  everything,  and  she  advised  me  by 
all  means  to  try  to  persuade  your  uncle  to  help 
me." 

"  I  should  never  have  suspected  my  sister  of 
that,"  said  Mr.  Drayton  ;  and  just  then  Julia  gave 
the  sign  and  they  all  rose  from  dinner. 

"  You  were  very  silent  during  dinner,"  said 
Edith  softly  to  Philip,  who  was  holding  the  door 
open  for  the  ladies  to  pass  out  of  the  room. 

He  smiled  at  her  kindly.  "  Did  I  seem  silent  ?  " 
he  asked.  "  I  was  really  trying  to  talk." 

"DEAREST  GERTRUDE  "  (wrote  Miss  Arnold  that 
night,  in  a  burst  of  sisterly  enthusiasm)  —  "if  you 
could  but  have  seen  Julia  this  evening,  there  would 
be  one  more  beautiful  picture  in  the  world ! 
Whereas,  now,  it  only  lives  in  my  memory.  Im- 
agine her  in  an  e*cru-  colored  brocade,  with  any 
amount  of  soft,  creamy  lace  about  the  throat,  front, 
sleeves,  etc.,  and  you  will  confess  that  it  was  just 
the  contrast  to  bring  out  the  brown  tints  of  her 
complexion  and  the  magnificent  depths  of  her  dark 
eyes.  She  is  such  a  spirited-looking  girl,  so  full 
of  fire  and  repartee,  and  so  perfectly  at  her  ease  in 
society,  that  I  confess,  in  this  last  respect,  I  envied 
her. 


A   CARPET  KNKillT.  109 

"  For  my  part,  it  was  so  new  a  sensation  to  be  at 
a  dinner  party,  that  I  felt  as  if  nothing  that  I  could 
think  of  was  important  enough  to  be  worth  men- 
tioning on  stu-h  an  occasion,  especially  to  Mr.  Dray- 
ton.  Was  it  not  very  nice  of  him  to  take  me  in  to 
dinner?  He  talked  delightfully,  but  I  was  dumb. 
Mrs.  Davering,  Julia's  great  friend,  seemed  to  find 
plenty  to  say  to  him,  yet  I  may  as  well  acknowledge 
at  once  that  I  do  not  like  Mrs.  Davering.  She  is 
what  is  called  a  fine  looking  woman ;  but  there  is 
something  about  her,  a  sort  of  observant  imperti- 
nence in  the  expression  of  her  eyes,  which  makes 
me  sure  that  I  never  shall  like  her.  It  is  ungrate- 
ful perhaps,  for  she  asked  us  both  to  receive  with 
her  on  New  Year's  day,  and  Julia  says  that  she 
has  offered  to  take  me  to  the  Assembly,  which  is 
certainly  very  kind." 

Later  she  wrote :  "  I  had  almost  forgotten  to 
tell  you  about  Dr.  Carey.  He  is  from  Boston, 
and  I  rather  expected  to  find  him  a  '  little  tin  God 
on  wheels,'  but  he  is  not.  I  think  him  decidedly 
odd,  but  agreeable.  Fancy  a  tall,  thin,  angular  per- 
son, who  stoops  a  little  and  wears  eyeglasses,  with 
black  hair  and  a  brown  moustache,  rather  thick 
and  long,  and  a  face  full  of  intelligence,  although 
the  nose  is  a  trifle  long  for  beauty.  I  wish  he  did 
not  use  quite  so  much  slang,  but  he  has  a  great 
deal  of  general  information,  and  talks  unassum- 
ingly, as  if  he  expected,  of  course,  to  find  other  peo- 
ple as  well  posted  as  himself.  I  like  that,  for  even 
if  I  do  not  know  a  great  deal  about  a  subject,  I 


110  A    CARPET  KNIGHT. 

would  rather  confess  my  ignorance  than  have  it 
presupposed.  Would  not  you  ?  Perhaps  I  am  in- 
clined to  think  well  of  Dr.  Carey  at  any  rate,  for 
he  is  a  great  friend  of  Mr.  Philip  Drayton,  whose 
judgment  I  feel  almost  sure  is  good  in  the  choice 
of  his  friends.  I  had  a  long  talk  with  him  to-day, 
and  such  a  pleasant  one !  He  has  the  same  way 
which  Dr.  Carey  has,  of  becoming  interested  in  his 
subject  for  its  own  sake,  whereas  Mr  Wilmott 
seems  to  care  much  more  who  says  a  thing  than 
what  is  said." 

Here  the  young  lady,  who  had  apparently  gone 
rambling  on  with  her  letter  quite  unrestrainedly, 
seemed  suddenly  to  have  checked  the  flow  of  her 
pen. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

"  Much  like  a  subtile  spider  which  doth  git 
In  middle  of  her  web,  which  spreadeth  wide, 
If  aught  do  touch  the  utmost  thread  of  it 
She  feels  it  instantly  on  every  side." 

SIB  JOHN  DAVUS. 

NEW  YEAR'S  DAY  proved  to  be  very  raw  and 
disagreeable. 

Mrs.  Davering  had  intended  to  receive  in  what 
she  called  "the  old-fashioned  style,"  no  effect  be- 
ing striven  after,  except  that  of  making  the  aspect 
of  things  ideally  homelike ;  but  the  cheerlessness  of 
the  day  led  her  to  change  her  plan,  and  when  Edith 
and  Julia  arrived,  at  a  little  after  twelve,  they 
found  the  blinds  closed  and  all  the  gas  lighted,  as 
for  an  evening  entertainment. 

Miss  Charlotte  Wilmott  was  there  before  them, 
and  there  were  three  or  four  other  young  ladies,  to 
whom  the  honor  had  been  extended  of  casting  their 
fortunes  for  the  day  with  those  of  Mrs.  Daver- 
ing. 

The  reception  rooms  in  her  house  were  very 
large  and  luxurious,  with  numerous  sofas  and 
divans  and  several  curtained  alcoves  tempting  to 
quiet  chats,  and  they  opened  from  one  another  in 
unexpected  ways,  which  lent  an  added  charm  of 
mystery,  Edith  thought.  The  reader  has  already 


112  A   CARPET  KNIGHT. 

been  introduced  to  the  largest  of  the  rooms  and  may 
feel  a  moment's  passing  interest  in  the  unfortunate 
scion  of  the  house,  who  was  reclining  in  a  smaller 
one  which  was  temporarily  shut  off  from  the  others, 
and  had  been  devoted  to  his  special  use  since  his 
accident. 

His  ankle  was  slowly  improving,  much  more 
slowly  than  seemed  to  him  in  any  way  just  or  bear- 
able, and  his  constant  attempts  to  use  it  before  it 
was  ready  for  use  resulted  in  fresh  delay. 

While  the  young  ladies  were  taking  off  their 
cloaks  in  the  dressing-room,  Mrs.  Davering  drew 
Julia  aside. 

"  I  should  like  you  to  see  Charles  for  a  moment," 
she  said.  "  He  is  so  tired  of  his  confinement." 

"  Poor  fellow  !  I  should  like  to  see  him." 

"  Oh  !  how  do  you  do,  Miss  Prescott  ?  Upon 
my  honor  this  is  very  kind,"  cried  Mr.  Hazzard,  as 
Julia  entered  with  his  mother. 

"  If  you  get  up,  Charles,"  said  Mrs.  Davering 
severely,  "I  shall  take  Miss  Prescott  away  at 
once." 

"  I  won't  indeed,  mother.  I  had  no  idea  of  get- 
ting up,  except  to  shake  hands,"  he  answered  with 
submission. 

"Mahomet  will  come  to  the  mountain,"  said 
Julia,  laughing  as  she  approached. 

"  Will  you  excuse  my  leaving  you  for  one  mo- 
ment, Julia  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Davering.  "  I  want  to 
see  what  the  other  girls  are  about." 

Julia,  who  had  seated  herself  in  a  basket  chair 


A    CARPET  KNIGHT.  113 

beside  Mr.  lla/./ard's  sofa,  looked  gravely  at  his 
mother,  with  an  expression  of  slight  surprise. 

"  I  will  excuse  you  for  a  moment,  certainly,"  she 
said. 

"I  will  return  in  two  seconds,"  said  Mrs.  Daver-1 
ing  hurriedly,  coloring  a  little,  and  avoiding  Julia's 
direct  gaze,  as  she  left  the  room. 

"  It  is  awfully  good  of  you  to  come  and  cheer 
me  up,"  said  Charley,  with  a  grateful  look,  after 
she  was  gone. 

"  Yes,  I  think  it  is,"  said  Julia,  in  a  tone  of  con- 
scious virtue. 

"  I  heard  you  were  driving  in  the  Park  the  very 
day  it  happened." 

"  So  we  were,  and  we  saw  you  and  Mr.  Freeman 
in  the  wherry.  What  induced  you  fc>  go  out  on 
such  a  cold  day  ?  " 

"  It  was  n't  so  cold  in  the  morning,  and  we 
wanted  exercise,  you  know ;  besi^jfe,  (Jon't  you  re- 
member what  I  told  you  about  the  importance  of 
practice  ?  " 

"  Distinctly.  '  'T  is  in  my  memory  locked,  and 
thou  thyself  shalt  keep  the  key  of  it,'  "  said  Julia, 
with  a  wave  of  her  hand. 

"  That  sounds  very  well,"  said  Charley  phleg- 
matically,  "and  it  seems  to  me  I  have  heard  it 
before,  but  I  don't  see  what  it  has  to  do  with 
training."' 

"  Everything,"  said  Julia.  "  It  is  the  result  of 
training  upon  me." 

"  I  '11  tell  you  what  it  is !  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Haz- 

8 


114  A    CARPET  KNIGHT. 

zard,  as  though  struck  with  a  brilliant  idea.  "  Did 
not  my  mother  say  that  you  had  a  young  lady  from 
New  York  staying  with  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  fancy  so.  I  have  one  certainly.  Is  that 
it?" 

"  No ;  but  I  was  thinking  that  as  soon  as  I  am  a 
little  better  of  this  stupid  trouble  with  my  ankle  I 
might  take  you  both  to  row.  Do  you  think  she 
would  like  it?" 

"  She  might  when  the  weather  is  warmer." 

"Should  you?" 

"  It  seems  to  me  delightful." 

"Really?" 

"  I  really  think  you  are  very  kind  to  suggest  it ; 
and  here  comes  Mrs.  Davering." 

"  Then  we.  will  go  some  time,"  said  Charley,  with 
a  gratified  expression. 

"  Yes ;  some  time  towards  spring." 

"Where  is  tfcM  that  you  will  go,  Charley?" 
asked  his  mother  playfully. 

"  Nowhere  at  present,"  said  Julia.  "  I  think 
Mr.  Hazzard  is  going  to  be  very  good  now,  and 
take  care  of  his  injured  ankle,  in  order  to  do  what 
he  pleases  in  the  future." 

She  spoke  kindly  and  looked  persuasively  at  the 
young  man,  as  one  might  do  at  a  child  which  was 
blind  to  its  true  interest.  Not  unfrequently  people 
fell  into  this  tone  with  him,  but  he  was  not  a  child 
in  all  his  feelings,  and  the  kind  look  did  some 
damage,  of  which  its  bestower  was  quite  uncon- 
scious. 


A  CARPET  KNICIIT.  115 

Edith  meanwhile  had  been  taken  in  hand  by 
Charlotte  Wilmott,  and  introduced  to  the  other 
young  ladies  with  whom  they  were  to  receive.  She 
was  much  surprised  to  find  that  three  out  of  five 
of  them  were  named  Davering,  and  yet  the  three 
did  not  appear  to  be  sisters,  but  rather  distantly 
related,  if  at  all. 

When  she  expressed  her  astonishment  to  Julia, 
as  she  found  an  opportunity  of  doing  later,  Miss 
Prescott  explained  that  among  the  most  influential 
families  in  Philadelphia  there  were  one  or  two 
names  which  were  very  conspicuous,  and  that  gen- 
eration after  generation  having  succeeded  each 
other  in  these  families,  the  present  representatives 
were,  naturally,  not  so  nearly  allied  as  their  ances- 
tors had  been. 

"  But  I  should  think  that  in  that  case  they  would 
have  no  reason  to  lead  them  to  seek  each  other's 
society,"  said  Edith.  "  Does  Mrs.  Davering  feel 
obliged  to  invite  all  her  husband's  third  and  fourth 
cousins  to  receive  with  her?" 

"  Certainly  not.  They  seek  each  other's  society 
from  choice,  not  necessity,  having  a  confident  belief 
that  there  is  none  pleasanter,"  said  Julia,  with  an 
amused  smile. 

Little  as  Edith  liked  Mrs.  Davering,  she  was 
forced  to  acknowledge  that  her  rooms  were  fur- 
nished with  exquisite  taste,  and  in  matters  of  this 
kind  she  was  a  better  critique  than  it  might  be 
presumed  that  a  young  lady  of  her  opportunities 
would  be.  She  was  not  so  good  a  judge,  perhaps, 


116  A    CARPET  KNIGHT. 

but  equally  observant,  of  the  generalship  which  her 
hostess  displayed  in  the  disposal  of  her  forces  so  as 
best  to  sustain  the  coming  attack. 

She  had  chosen  one  of  the  Misses  Davering,  the 
prettiest,  to  pour  out  coffee,  which  was  served  on  a 
little  table  in  the  room  adjoining  the  larger  one, 
in  which  she  herself  remained.  Opposite  to  this 
young  lady,  at  the  same  table,  Miss  Charlotte  Wil- 
mott  had  been  requested  to  preside  over  a  pot  of 
chocolate. 

There  were  still  two  of  the  Daverings  left  in  the 
main  body,  so  to  speak,  besides  Miss  Arnold,  Miss 
Prescott,  and  a  Miss  Louisa  Mortimer,  who  struck 
Edith  as  rather  a  wishy-washy  kind  of  person,  not 
unlike  the  heroine  of  an  old-fashioned  novel,  and 
whom  she  was  sorry  to  find  near  her  on  a  distant 
sofa,  Mrs.  Davering  having  decoyed  them  thither 
to  look  at  some  photographs,  and  basely  deserted. 

Edith's  companion  was  pale,  with  straight  light 
hair  and  watery-looking  eyes.  She  had  an  ex- 
tremely small  waist,  was  dressed  in  gen  d'arme 
blue,  a  color  which  Edith  happened  particularly  to 
dislike,  and  began  to  talk  about  the  weather  in 
a  monotonous  tone,  which  was  quite  depressing. 
Edith  looked  about  her  in  all  directions  for  some 
means  of  escape. 

She  saw  that  Mrs.  Davering,  after  detailing 
Miss  Isabella  and  Miss  Mildred  Davering  to  seats 
on  the  centre  divan,  had  evidently  decided  to  re- 
tain Julia  close  to  her  own  person,  in  the  part  of 
the  room  nearest  the  door,  and  she  resolved  that 


A    CARPET  KNfCHT.  117 

she  would  find  her  way  to  Julia's  side  as  soon  as 
possible ;  but  the  room  was  so  large  that  she  felt 
shy  about  crossing  it,  and  she  was  soon  prevented 
from  carrying  out  her  intention  by  the  arrival  of 
the  first  visitors.  They  were  heralded  by  a  cold 
draft  of  wind  from  the  front  door,  which  preceded 
them  even  to  the  drawing-room.  They  made  some 
noise,  too,  coming"  upstairs,  which  was  explained 
when  they  appeared,  for  there  were  four  of  them 
hurrying  forward  in  hot  haste.  They  had  taken  a 
carriage  for  the  day,  and  were  anxious  to  make  as 
many  visits  as  possible.  Mrs.  Davering  surprised 
Edith  by  bringing  over  two  of  these  first-comers  to 
introduce  to  her  and  Miss  Mortimer.  They  were 
very  young  gentlemen,  and  a  good  deal  frightened 
lest  they  should  get  out  of  conversation.  Edith 
felt  sorry  for  them,  they  wriggled  about  and  talked 
so  fast,  and  was  just  beginning  to  say  something 
herself,  in  order  to  give  them  a  moment's  rest, 
when  they  suddenly  declared  that  they  must  go, 
and  forthwith  departed  as  they  had  come. 

The  next  arrival  proved  to  be  that  of  a  middle- 
aged  bachelor,  from  the  country.  He  was  stout 
and  rather  red  in  the  face.  He  insisted  upon  being 
introduced  to  each  one  of  the  young  ladies  in  turn, 
made  gallant  speeches  to  all  of  them,  and  hailed 
the  suggestion  that  he  should  take  a  cup  of  coffee 
or  chocolate  with  delight,  choosing  the  chocolate 
and  following  it  up  with  the  coffee. 

Miss  Arnold  was  not  able  to  pursue  his  achieve- 
ments further,  although  they  interested  her  on  ac- 


118  A   CARPET  KNIGHT. 

count  of  their  thoroughness.  Her  attention  was 
again  required  by  her  hostess,  who  had  come  to 
present  to  her  a  delicate  little  man  with  eyeglasses 
and  red  whiskers.  He  had  just  appeared,  accom- 
panied by  a  tall,  elegant  looking  person,  of  whom 
he  apparently  stood  in  great  awe.  Indeed,  his  au- 
gust companion  seemed  to  look  down  upon  him 
from  a  lofty  eminence  of  supreme  fashion,  to  which 
the  smaller  gentleman  could  not  pretend.  The 
name  of  the  latter  proved  to  be  Foxall,  and  Edith 
rather  liked  him.  In  fact,  they  got  on  so  well  that 
she  was  quite  sorry  when,  one  or  two  other  visitors 
having  entered,  his  grand  associate  took  it  into  his 
head  to  be  introduced  to  her,  and  broke  up  the 
conversation. 

This  stylish  person  was  a  Mr.  Drum  Kettleby. 
In  Philadelphia,  where  origin  was  a  matter  of  in- 
terest, he  was  said  to  be  of  a  New  York  family, 
but  when  he  went  to  New  York,  as  he  very  often 
did,  or  among  the  persons  whom  he  met  at  summer 
watering-places,  he  was  only  known  as  "  Mr.  Drum 
Kettleby,  from  Philadelphia." 

This  simple  appellation  was,  however,  no  mean 
distinction,  for  it  was  acknowledged  to  designate 
an  eminently  successful  society  man,  whose  value 
and  desirability  in  the  world  of  fashion  seemed 
somehow  to  be  estimated  by  an  inverse  ratio  of  his 
value  and  desirability  elsewhere. 

No  one  knew  how  he  had  gained  his  preemi- 
nence, for  he  had  neither  fortune  nor  family  ;  but 
it  was  remembered  that  he  had  first  been  intro- 


A    CARPET  KXK.HT.  119 

duccd  by  one  of  the  Capulets,  a  chance  friendship 
with  whom  had  given  him  the  cntrt  of  people's 
houses.  He  had  done  everything  else  for  himself, 
and,  strange  to  say,  the  manner  in  which  he  had 
done  it  had  been  by  doing  nothing.  He  had  sun- 
ply  let  himself  alone,  accepting  affably  the  hands 
held  out  to  him,  but  being  especially  caref  id  not  to 
move  a  finger  for  his  own  advancement. 

No  one  could  ever  say  that  Mr.  Drum  Kettleby 
was  pushing,  or  that  he  was  anxious  to  please.  It 
may  not  have  been  in  his  nature  to  be  either.  It 
may  have  been  only  a  part  of  his  art  not  to  seem 
to  be,  but  as  the  fame  of  Raphael  to  that  of  Perti- 
gino,  or  of  Leonardo  da  Vinci  to  Verrocchio,  had 
been  his  strides  in  the  favor  of  society,  compared  to 
those  of  his  master.  The  Capulet,  who  had  become 
engaged  to  be  married,  was  actually  nowhere,  and 
Mr.  Drum  Kettleby  was  everywhere. 

Considering  all  this,  or  perhaps  because  she  did 
not  know  it,  Miss  Arnold  found  his  conversation 
uncommonly  slow,  and  she  was  all  the  more  glad 
to  see  Cecil  Wilmott  enter  the  room,  which  was 
now  beginning  to  fill  with  black  coats.  Cecil  came 
in  with  Dr.  Carey,  and  she  saw  him  cast  a  hasty 
glance  about  him  as  he  advanced  to  greet  his  host- 
ess. 

Whether  his  eye  had  fallen  on  her  in  her  distant 
corner  she  could  not  tell,  but  his  presence  lent  a 
certain  interest  and  excitement  to  her  efforts  to  en- 
tertain Mr.  Drum  Kettleby  which  her  previous 
manner  towards  that  gentleman  had  rather  lacked. 


120  A    CARPET  KNIGHT. 

She  noticed  that  after  paying  their  respects  to 
Mrs.  Davering,  Cecil  Wilmott  and  Dr.  Carey 
passed  through  a  curtained  doorway  from  the 
larger  drawing-room  to  a  smaller  one  beyond,  and 
as  from  where  she  sat  she  commanded  a  complete 
view  of  this  room  and  of  the  library  which  opened 
from  it  in  a  long  vista,  she  could  plainly  distin- 
guish Cecil's  slight  figure  as  he  stood  talking  with 
the  pretty  Miss  Davering,  whom  he  had  evidently 
persuaded  to  give  him  a  cup  of  coffee. 

The  group  round  the  little  tea-table  formed  an 
attractive  picture  in  the  middle  distance,  Edith 
thought,  and  she  suddenly  experienced  a  feeling  of 
regret  that  Mrs.  Davering  had  not  assigned  to  her 
the  pleasing  task  of  pouring  out  the  coffee.  From 
these  thoughts  she  suddenly  awoke  to  the  gracious 
attention  which  her  distinguished  visitor  was  be- 
stowing on  her.  Since  she  had  ceased  to  know 
exactly  what  she  was  saying,  and  had  begun  to 
talk  merely  for  the  sake  of  seeming  to  be  talking, 
Mr.  Drum  Kettleby  had  pricked  up  his  ears,  meta- 
phorically speaking,  and  was  smiling  in  a  manner 
which  he  evidently  intended  to  be  encouraging. 

She  did  not  yet  know  enough  of  society  to  un- 
derstand why  he  was  pleased  with  her ;  but  later 
she  discovered  that  the  kind  of  conversation  with 
which  she  was  then  favoring  him  was  that  to  which 
he  was  most  accustomed,  and  that  nothing  confused 
Mr.  Drum  Kettleby  so  much  as  the  display  of  any 
keen  interest  in  a  subject,  or  to  be  asked  his  opin- 
ion of  anything. 


A   CARPET  A'AY './//.  121 

Being  at  her  wits'  end  to  think  what  further  to 
say  to  him,  she  propo.si-d  to  introduce  him  to  Miss 
Louisa  Mortimer,  :m<l  sailed  tin-  notion  to  the  wo rd. 

Since  the  departure  of  the  first  visitors  Miss 
Mortimer  had  sat  somewhat  apart,  apparently  ab- 
sorbed in  the  portfolio  of  photographs,  so  that 
Edith  was  obliged  to  rise  to  perform  the  introduc- 
tion, and  as  she  stood  talking  with  her  back  to- 
ward the  rest  of  the  room,  she  suddenly  heard 
Ceeil's  voice  at  her  elbow. 

"How  do  you  do.  Miss  Arnold?  I  have  been 
trying  in  vain  to  get  to  you.  "Will  you  not  come 
and  sit  down  with  me  ?  I  am  commissioned  this 
moment  by  Charlotte  to  arrange  a  time,  if  possible, 
when  your  numerous  engagements  will  allow  you 
to  lunch  with  us,  and  go  to  visit  the  sights  of  the 
town." 

"  What  are  the  sights  of  the  town  ? "  asked 
Edith. 

"  Come  back  to  your  sofa,  and  I  will  tell  you  all 
about  them,"  said  Cecil. 

As  Miss  Mortimer  moved  away  just  then  with 
Mr.  Drum  Kettleby,  Edith  yielded  to  his  request. 

"  How  did  you  know  that  I  had  been  sitting  here 
before  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  I  saw  you  when  I  first  came  in.  You  were 
talking  to  Drum  Kettleby.  I  think  you  have  made 
quite  an  impression  upon  him.  He  seemed  to  be 
very  attentive." 

"  What  nonsense  !  " 

"  He  did,  indeed.     I  had  intended  to  make  a 


122  A   CARPET  KNIGHT. 

good  many  visits  to-day,"  he  said  presently,  "  but 
the  weather  is  so  bad,  that  I  am  strongly  inclined 
to  give  up,  and  stay  where  I  am." 

"Here?" 

"  Here,  exactly.  I  rather  like  it,"  replied  Wil- 
mott. 

Edith  laughed.  "I  meant  at  Mrs.  Davering's 
house,"  she  said. 

"  I  know  what  you  meant,"  he  answered,  "  and 
what  I  mean.  The  only  load  on  my  conscience  is 
Lawrence  Carey.  I  don't  know  whether  I  ought 
to  go  anywhere  else  on  his  account.  Philip  had 
promised  to  take  him  about  to-day,  and  was  unex- 
pectedly prevented." 

"  Do  you  think  Dr.  Carey  wants  to  go  else- 
where ?  " 

"  I  am  not  sure  that  he  does,"  said  Cecil.  "  I 
see  that  he  has  found  Julia,  and  seems  to  be  very 
comfortable." 

"  They  look  as  if  they  were  having  a  pleasant 
talk,"  said  Miss  Arnold,  following  the  direction  of 
his  eyes  to  the  recess  of  the  bay  window,  where 
Miss  Prescott  and  Dr.  Carey  had  found  a  seat. 
It  was  the  same  one  which  Julia  had  occupied  on 
the  night  of  the  ball,  but  Mrs.  Davering  was  much 
too  wise  a  woman  to  leave  her  so  long  undisturbed, 
with  her  present  companion. 

"  Our  hostess  is  going  to  make  mince  meat  out 
of  that  arrangement,"  said  Cecil,  with  an  amused 
smile,  as  they  saw  Mrs.  Davering  bearing  down 
upon  the  unconscious  pair,  with  Mr.  William  Free- 


A  CARPET  KNIGHT.  123 

man,  the  companion  of  her  son's  unfortunate  boat- 
ing excursion.     "  Carey  will  soon  be  adrift." 

"  Why  could  not  Mr.  Philip  Drayton  come  to 
look  after  his  friend  ?  "  asked  Edith. 

"  He  had  to  go  to  Heronsford  again,"  said  Ce- 
cil. "  Some  stupid  mistake  had  occurred  about  the 
improvements  which  he  is  making  there.  It  was 
hard  luck  certainly,  instead  of  coming  to  wish  you 
a  happy  New  Year." 

"  Do  you  know  that  nobody  yet  has  wished  me 
a  happy  New  Year  ?  That  funny  little  Mr.  Foxall 
told  me  that  he  had  made  a  firm  resolution,  before 
he  left  home  this  morning,  not  to  wish  it  to  any 
one" 

Cecil  laughed.  "  I  have  no  doubt  he  thinks  it 
a  very  wicked  expression,"  he  said. 

"  Oh,  no,"  said  Edith.  "  He  told  me  his  objec- 
tion. He  has  a  great  dread  of  saying  exactly 
what  every  one  else  says." 

"  And  with  reason,"  said  Wilmott.  "  May  I 
wish  you  a  happy  New  Year  ?  "  He  held  out  his 
hand  for  hers. 

Edith  hesitated,  before  she  took  it. 

"  I  wish  you  many  happy  years,"  said  Cecil. 

"  Thank  you,"  she  answered,  drawing  her  hand 
from  his,  with  a  half  smile  at  his  earnestness. 

"  For  myself,  I  wish  I  could  believe  that  when 
the  next  New  Year's  day  comes  you  will  remember 
this  one,"  he  continued  more  lightly. 

"  Why  not  ?  "  she  asked.  "  A  year  is  not  long 
to  remember." 


124  A   CARPET  KNIGHT. 

"  But  you  may  be  thinking  of  other  things." 

"  I  suppose  I  shall,  of  course,"  said  Edith,  practi- 
cally, "  but  the  association  of  ideas  might  recall  the 
day  very  naturally,  I  should  think." 

"  Shall  I  be  a  pleasant  association  with  it  ? " 
asked  Cecil,  taking  her  fan,  which  happened  to  be 
near  him,  as  he  spoke. 

Edith  could  hardly  help  laughing  at  the  dis- 
crepancy between  his  words  and  manner,  which 
was  rather  playful  than  sentimental  throughout ; 
but  it  had  a  charm  for  her,  in  spite  of  her  amuse- 
ment. 

"  I  think  all  the  associations  of  the  day  will  be 
pleasant,"  she  answered  demurely. 

"  They  will  for  me,"  said  Wilmott.  "  Where  did 
you  get  this  artistic  fan,  Miss  Arnold  ?  " 

"Do  you  think  it  pretty?"  she  asked,  with  a 
childlike,  eager  air,  which  she  had  when  she  was  in- 
terested. 

"  I  think  it  is  beautiful." 

"  I  am  so  glad.  It  was  painted  by  my  sister,  and 
is  her  own  design.  Wait,  I  will  show  you  the 
story ;  "  she  took  it  from  him  impulsively,  as  she 
spoke.  "  See  here,"  she  continued,  holding  it  with 
one  hand  and  pointing  with  the  small,  gloved  finger 
of  the  other  to  the  pictures  which  were  delicately 
sketched  in  water  colors  on  the  ivory  slats  of  the 
fan.  "  This  first  scene  represents  a  court  fool,  who 
has  followed  a  fair  lady  into  the  woods,  where  she 
wishes  to  wander,  being  inclined  to  be  a  little  pen- 
sive, you  know,  and  the  fool  is  to  warn  her  of  any 


A   CARPET  KNIGHT.  125 

danger,  which  might  approach.  You  see  she  has 
seated  herself  beneath  the  shade  of  a  tree,  and  has 
fallen  asleep,  and  meanwhile  he  watches  her,  and 
grows  very  sad  —  because  —  because  "  —  repeated 
Edith,  suddenly  pausing,  and  looking  rather  shy. 

"  Because  what  ?  "  asked  Cecil. 

"  Oh,  because  he  is  in  love  with  her,  of  course," 
said  Edith,  in  a  tone  of  great  impatience.  These 
things  were  so  taken  for  granted  in  fairy  stories 
that  it  had  not  occurred  to  her  that  they  might  be 
awkward  to  explain,  in  a  drawing-room,  where  the 
most  natural  ideas  seem  suddenly  conventionalized. 

"  In  love,  is  he  ?  "  asked  Cecil.  "  Poor  fool ! 
Let  me  have  another  look  at  him.  And  what  does 
this  next  picture  represent?  It  appears  to  be  a 
change  of  subject." 

"  Why,  that  is  a  knight  returning  from  the  war," 
said  Miss  Arnold.  "  Is  not  his  armor  well  painted, 
and  his  horse  ?  They  must  have  been  so  hard  to 
do." 

"  Yes,  it  is  a  very  pretty  picture,"  answered  Ce- 
cil. "  But  what  has  the  knight  to  do  with  the 
lady  ?  Is  he  in  love  with  her,  too  ?  " 

"  I  suppose  he  is,  for  she  has  been  hoping  that 
he  would  come  home  —  and  —  he  has  come." 

"  Ah,  I  see ;  and  here  are  the  knight  and  the 
lady  together,"  said  Cecil,  who  had  taken  the  fan 
from  her  again. 

"  Yes,"  replied  Edith  ;  "  and  there,  on  the  other 
side,  is  the  fool,  alone." 

"  Poor  fellow,"  said  Cecil ;  "  he  looks  very  dis- 


126  A   CARPET  KNIGHT. 

consolate.  He  has  taken  to  a  willow  tree,  has  he 
not  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  the  verse  describes  him  as  throwing  him- 
self down  beneath  a  willow  tree,"  she  answered. 

"  The  verse  ?     Is  there  a  poem  about  it  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no,  not  a  poem.  There  are  a  few  verses 
which  a  friend  of  ours  once  wrote,  in  imitation  of 
an  old  ballad.  They  are  not  much  in  themselves, 
but  suggested  to  my  sister  the  idea  of  the  pictures 
on  the  fan." 

"  Have  you  got  the  verses  ?  "  asked  Wilmott. 
"I  should  like  to  read  them." 

"  I  have  them,  but  only  in  a  scrap-book,  with  a 
number  of  other  odds  and  ends.  I  could  copy 
them,  if  you  really  care  to  see  them,  though." 

"  Of  course  I  do.     Why  should  you  doubt  it  ?  " 

"  Perhaps  you  only  say  so  because  you  think  it 
will  please  me." 

"  I  think  it  does  please  you,"  said  Cecil,  "  but  I 
can't  imagine  why.  It  is  so  natural  that  I  should 
want  to  see  the  verses,  after  looking  at  the  fan,  that 
I  shall  think  you  very  kind  if  you  take  the  trouble 
to  copy  them  for  me." 

At  this  moment  Julia  approached,  accompanied 
by  Dr.  Carey.  He  had  refused  to  be  driven  away 
by  Mrs.  Davering,  but  the  conversation  of  three 
which  had  followed  upon  the  introduction  of  Mr. 
Freeman  appeared  not  to  have  been  very  satisfac- 
tory. 

"  Dr.  Carey  is  actually  so  rash  as  to  believe  that 
he  has  made  all  his  New  Year's  calls,  Cecil,"  said 


A   CARPET  KNIGHT.  127 

Julia.  "  Now,  I  am  quite  sure  that  this  is  impossi- 
ble." 

"  I  don't  think  we  had  anywhere  else  to  go,  Wil- 
mott,  had  we  ?  "  asked  Dr.  Carey,  carelessly. 

"  I  think  not,"  replied  Cecil.  "  Nowhere  of  any 
account." 

*  I  do  not  believe  that  Dr.  Carey  has  been  to 
half  the  places  he  ought  to  have  been  taken  to," 
persisted  Julia.  "  In  Philip's  absence,  I  really  feel 
responsible  for  him." 

"  If  you  wish  me  to  go,"  said  Lawrence  Carey, 
in  a  nettled  tone,  "  I  can  do  so,  of  course."  A 
gleam  of  amusement  shot  from  Julia's  eyes.  It 
was  very  unusual  for  him  to  display  so  much  feel- 
ing, of  any  kind,  and  his  doing  so  could  only  be 
accounted  for  by  the  fact  that,  besides  the  contra- 
riety of  circumstances,  Miss  Prescott  had  been  in 
a  most  provoking  mood  all  the  afternoon. 

"  How  unjust  you  are !  "  she  said  now,  in  an  in- 
jured tone.  "  It  would  not  be  necessary  for  me  to 
talk  to  you,  if  you  stayed.  I  wish  you  could  believe 
me  disinterested." 

"  We  certainly  shall  not  believe  you  in  earnest, 
in  wishing  to  drive  us  forth  on  this  inclement  day," 
said  Cecil,  coming  to  the  rescue,  but  Julia  was  in 
a  dangerous  humor. 

"  I  was  only  going  to  suggest  a  few  visits,"  she 
said.  "  There  is  your  friend  Mrs.  Percy,  Cecil,  who 
lives  so  near.  You  surely  will  not  think  of  omit- 
ting your  New  Year's  visit  there,  and  as  a  stran- 
ger Dr.  Carey  dught  to  meet  her.  I  have  been 


128  .A   CARPET  KNIGHT. 

telling  him  about  her.  Mrs.  Percy  is  considered 
one  of  our  beauties,"  she  continued,  turning-  to  the 
Bostonian,  "  and  Mr.  Wilmott  can  tell  you  that  as 
long  as  he  has  known  her,  —  and  that  is  a  long 
while,  —  and  as  well  as  he  has  known  her,  although 
he  has  known  her  very  well,  she  has  always  been 
the  same.  Has  she  not,  Cecil  ?  She  is  said  to  oe 
as  charming  now  as  she  was  ten  years  ago." 

It  is  doubtful  whether  Cecil  WilmOtt  would  not 
have  left  Dr.  Carey  to  fight  his  own  battle,  if  he 
4iad  known  what  he  was  about  to  elicit.  To  his 
surprise,  it  was  Miss  Arnold  who  answered. 

"If  Mrs.  Percy  looks  as  lovely  always  as  she 
did  when  I  saw  her  the  other  day  in  the  Park,  I 
should  think  that  might  be  true  for  ten  years  to 
come,"  she  said  ;  "  but  for  all  that  I  do  not  see  why 
Dr.  Carey  should  go  to  see  her,  Julia,  unless  he 
cares  to  do  so.  And  I  am  very  hungry,  besides,  and 
would  give  the  world  for  a  sandwich  and  a  cup  of 
coffee." 

Both  gentlemen  started  forward  to  supply  her 
wants,  but  as  Dr.  Carey  was  a  little  in  advance 
Cecil  turned  back  and  stood  beside  her  a  moment, 
as  though  waiting  for  her  to  look  up.  Edith  did 
so  at  last,  with  an  air  of  surprise,  and  smiled  a 
little,  for,  as  her  eyes  met  his,  she  thought  she  un- 
derstood him. 

"  You  were  very  kind,"  he  murmured,  and  then 
he  passed  on  to  Julia,  who  had  seated  herself  on . 
the  sofa  beside  her  friend,  but  did  not  look  repen- 
tant.    "  You  must  let  me  get  you  something,  too, 


\RPET  KXfCHT.  129 

Miss  Prescott,"  he  said,  with  mock  formality.  "  I 
am  sure  you  require  refreshment,"  and  rather  to 
the  disgust  of  Dr.  Carey  he  devoted  himself  to 

Julia  for  the  rest  of  their  visit. 
9 


CHAPTER  XII. 

"  O  Memory,  thou  art  but  a  sigh 

For  friendships  dead  and  loves  forgot, 
And  many  a  cold  and  altered  eye 
That  once  did  say  Forget  me  not." 

AYTOUN. 

EDITH  complained  of  a  headache  that  evening, 
and  retired  early ;  but  after  reaching  her  room  she 
felt  restless  and  adverse  to  repose.  She  took  down 
her  hair  slowly,  looking  lingeringly  at  her  reflection 
in  the  mirror,  from  time  to  time,  in  a  dreamy  sort 
of  way.  Then  she  put  on  a  long  white  flannel 
dressing-gown,  which  fell  about  her  in  soft  folds, 
and  lighting  a  lamp,  that  stood  on  a  little  red- 
covered  table  beside  the  fire,  opened  a  worn  mo- 
rocco scrap-book,  and  began  to  copy  the  verses 
promised  to  Cecil  Wilmott. 

As  she  turned  the  pages  of  the  scrap-book  her 
attention  was  attracted  by  a  flat  leather  pocket  on 
the  inside  of  one  of  the  covers,  which  she  had  quite 
forgotten.  Unclosing  this  she  saw  a  thin  old  letter, 
which  she  drew  from  its  hiding-place,  and  was  sur- 
prised to  perceive  that  it  was  addressed  to  Julia 
Prescott,  in  a  handwriting  which  she  did  not  know. 
The  envelope  had  been  cut  across  the  top  in  order 
to  get  at  the  contents,  and  as  she  held  it  Edith  no- 
ticed that  it  contained  a  photograph. 


A    CAh'/'ET  KNI<;ilT.  131 

Her  curiosity  was  a  good  deal  excited  as  to  whose 
it  could  bo,  but  she  remembered  that  she  had  no 
right  to  look,  and  thrusting  the  letter  hastily  into  a 
square  envelope,  which  lay  on  the  table  beside  some 
note-paper,  wrote  a  few  words  in  pencil,  which  she 
inclosed  with  it,  and  rang  the  bell. 

••  Is  Miss  Prescott  still  down  stairs?"  she  asked 
of  the  maid  who  answered  her  ring. 

"  Yes,  miss.     She  is  in  the  library." 

"  Give  her  this  from  me,  please." 

The  maid  disappeared. 

Edith's  chamber  was  a  large  one  in  the  fourth 
story  of  the  house.  The  furniture  was  fine  old 
carved  mahogany,  with  claw  feet  and  brass  handles 
to  the  drawers,  which  shone  in  the  light  of  a  wood 
fire ;  and  only  the  fanciful  French  curtains  of  the 
windows,  a  creton-covered  arm-chair  of  the  pres- 
ent day,  and  a  few  bits  of  modern  adornment  here 
and  there  upon  the  walls  were  out  of  keeping  with 
the  revolutionary  period  of  which  the  huge  four- 
posted  bedstead  reminded  the  little  lady,  who  at 
last  lay  down  in  it  to  dream  out  her  dream,  and 
awake  again  to  the  realities  of  life. 

It  seemed  to  her,  long  afterwards,  in  looking 
back  upon  her  first  visit  to  Philadelphia,  that  it 
had  been  made  up  of  odd  contrasts  like  this,  —  of 
old  historic  memories,  crossed  by  light  tokens  of 
the  frivolous,  ever-interesting  present.  It  was  as  if 
she  had  stepped  at  once  into  a  knowledge  of  by- 
gone times  and  of  her  own. 

The  group  which  Edith  had  left  behind  her  in 


132  A   CARPET  KNIGHT. 

the  library  hardly  seemed  disturbed  by  her  defec- 
tion, although  its  members  had  grown  to  look  upon 
her  as  one  of  themselves.  It  consisted  of  three 
persons,  as  Philip  Drayton  had  gone  again  to 
Washington  on  business.  Julia  had  seated  her- 
self near  Mr.  Drayton  at  the  table,  and  they  were 
both  absorbed  in  reading.  Perhaps  Miss  Ruthven, 
who  had  grown  fond  of  Edith,  rather  missed  the 
gentle  chit-chat  in  which  they  usually  indulged  of 
an  evening,  especially  as  Philip,  her  great  crony, 
was  away.  She  soon  grew  sleepy,  without  any  one 
to  talk  to,  and  proposed  going  to  bed. 

"  Art  thou  not  coming,  Julia  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Miss  Ruthven,  in  a  little  while." 

The  other  two  read  on  in  silence  for  some  time 
after  she  was  gone,  until  Julia  came  to  the  end  of 
her  magazine  article,  and  softly  laid  the  pamphlet 
down.  She  sat  for  a  few  moments  watching  Mr. 
Drayton,  thinking  how  long  it  was  since  they  had 
spent  an  evening  thus  quietly  in  each  other's  com- 
pany, and  how  much  she  enjoyed  the  sense  of  com- 
munity with  him  which  always  came  to  her  at  times 
like  this. 

"  What  are  you  reading  ?  "  she  asked  at  last. 

"  I  am  reading  Taine's  '  Voyage  en  Italic,' " 
said  Mr.  Drayton,  without  lifting  his  eyes  from  his 
book. 

"  I  fancied  that  you  had  read  it." 

"  So  I  have,  —  fifteen  years  ago." 

"  I  thought  I  had  heard  you  speak  of  it.  Why 
do  you  read  it  again  ?  " 


A    CARPET  KNIGHT.  133 

"  Why,  indeed  ?  I  remember  it  quite  well,  but 
the  truth  is,  Monsieur  Taine  is  a  delightful  com- 
panion to  me  ;  and  then  I  may  have  to  go  to  Italy 
this  spring." 

"  I  did  not  know  you  thought  of  it." 

"  Only  as  the  dimmest  of  possibilities.  I  am 
likely  to  be  engaged  in  a  case  which  may  take  me 
to  London,  and  once  there  might  think  it  wise  to 
go  on  the  Continent  for  a  few  weeks.  It  would 
enable  me  to  do  some  business  more  thoroughly, 
which  must  otherwise  be  done  by  letter." 

"  Something  connected  with  me  ?  "  asked  Julia. 

"  Something  connected  with  your  coming  of 
age." 

"  Then  you  will  take  me'  with  you  ?  " 

"  We  will  see,  dear.     It  is  all  uncertain." 

"  I,  too,  have  felt  the  charm  of  Taine's  style," 
said  Julia,  resuming  the  former  subject. 

"  Every  one  has  who  is  capable  of  appreciating 
it,"  answered  her  guardian. 

"  I  am  not  sure  that  I  should  care  to  re-read  his 
book,  though,  merely  for  the  sake  of  his  society," 
said  Julia,  smiling. 

"  I  do  not  suppose  many  persons  would,"  rejoined 
Mr.  Drayton.  "  It  is  sad  to  think  that  so  much 
talent  may  be  so  soon  forgotten." 

"  I  should  not  think  any  writer  of  the  day  was 
more  widely  known,"  said  Julia. 

"  True,  and  yet  it  seems  as  if  the  first  effect  both 
of  this  book  and  the  '  English  Literature '  were  pass- 
ing away  without  leaving  a  very  decided  mark  be- 


134  A    CARPET  KNIGHT. 

hind.  Unfortunately,  they  contain  nothing  original 
except  the  author's  way  of  looking  at  things,  and 
that  hardly  belongs  more  to  himself  than  to  his 
century." 

"  I  should  have  said  that  there  was  a  great  deal 
of  thought  in  them." 

"  So  there  is.  They  may  almost  be  said  to  rep- 
resent contemporary  thought  and  feeling,  just  as 
they  reflect  contemporary  doubt ;  and  this,  besides 
their  beauty  of  expression,  constitutes  their  chief 
attraction  to  contemporaries  like  myself,  but  I  am 
not  sure  that  they  will  continue  to  be  read  when 
the  time  is  past." 

"  I.  should  think  that  the  more  completely  they 
embodied  the  spirit  of  the  century  in  which  they 
were  written,  the  more  valuable  they  would  be  here- 
after as  a  picture  of  the  time,"  said  Julia. 

"  To  students  of  history,  yes,"  replied  Mr.  Dray- 
ton  ;  "  but  they  are  not,  I  think,  books  to  be  re-read 
hereafter  for  the  ideas  which  they  contain,  because 
these  ideas  will  be  superseded  by  fresh  ones." 

"  The  fact  that  they  are  fresh  now  ought  to  make 
them  keep  longer  than  if  they  were  stale,"  remarked 
Julia. 

Mr.  Drayton  laughed.  "  That  sounds  unanswer- 
able," he  said,  "  but  I  am  not  sure  that  it  is  true. 
There  is  so  infinitely  little  added  to  the  great  stock 
of  human  knowledge  in  each  generation,  and  it  has 
to  be  picked  out  of  so  much  rubbish,  that  the  rub- 
bish of  twenty-five  or  thirty  years  ago,  like  the  fash- 
ion of  the  period  in  dress,  often  seems  to  us  more 


A   CARPET  K XI (HIT.  135 

jejune  than  do  the  exploded  theories  of  the  time  of 
Queen  Elizabeth/' 

"  Surely  Monsieur  Taine's  criticism  and  experi- 
ences are  not  rubbish,"  said  Julia  ;  "  or  if  so,  they 
are  such  sparkling  rubbish  that  I  should  be  more 
apt  to  compare  them  to  gold-dust." 

"  I  accept  the  correction,"  said  Mr.  Drayton. 
"  Let  us  think  of  them  as  gold-dust,  which  has 
been  sifted  from  the  sands  of  time  ;  precious,  bril- 
liant, volatile,  but  not  cohesive,  suited  to  no  end  on 
which  to  build  a  lasting  reputation." 

"  Might  they  not  be  smelted  over  again,  and 
fashioned  to  some  future  end  ?  " 

"  They  certainly  might,  and  very  possibly  may ; 
but  if  so,  it  will  be  the  work  of  genius,  and  they 
will  no  longer  belong  to  Monsieur  Taine.  Analyzed, 
without  undergoing  any  such  change,  their  absence 
of  defect  is  a  negative  quality,  and  I  am  inclined 
to  think  that  the  nice  taste  and  fine  power  of  dis- 
tinction which  are  left,  whether  they  find  expres- 
sion in  art  or  literature,  or  even  in  scientific  re- 
search, will  only  be  successful  to  the  author's  own 
standard,  and  are  only  likely  to  be  admired  by  his 
own  generation.  It  even  seems  just  that  it  should 
be  so,  as  a  proof  of  the  old  saying,  '  Little  venture, 
little  win/  " 

"  But  what  should  a  man  strive  to  fulfill,"  asked 
Julia,  "  if  not  his  own  standard  ?  What  other 
standard  can  he  have  ?  " 

"  My  dear,"  said  her  guardian,  "  he  should  have 
an  ideal.  If  he  have  not,  he  is  a  mere  clog." 


136  A   CARPET  KNIGHT. 

"  That  is,  you  require  him  to  have  an  ideal  stan- 
dard. You  are  not  satisfie'd  with  his  striving  to  do 
well  what  he  undertakes  ?  " 

"  He  should  not  be  satisfied  with  it,  lest  it  lead 
him  to  undertake  only  what  he  is  sure  of  doing 
well,  if  he  wish  to  become  immortal  —  even  on 
earth." 

"  But  if  he  be  a  commonplace  person,"  persisted 
Julia,  "  what  is  the  use  of  his  struggling  forever 
after  the  unattainable  ?  " 

"  Did  he  do  that,  he  would  probably  not  be  a 
commonplace  person ;  but  we  did  not  begin  to  talk 
about  commonplace  persons,  but  about  men  of  ex- 
ceptional talent,  and  we  were  not  speaking  of  the 
satisfaction  which  they  might  find  in  their  own 
lives,  —  that  is,  I  suppose,  the  meaning  of  the  word 
'  use '  as  you  employ  it,  rather  of  the  durability  of 
their  effect  on  mankind." 

"  That  is  quite  true,"  said  Julia,  with  a  puzzled 
expression,  "  but  I  cannot  help  feeling  as  if  things 
which  are  done  well  ought  to  have  a  more  lasting 
effect  than  things  which  are  merely  attempted." 

"  It  depends  entirely  upon  the  magnitude  of  the 
attempt." 

"  But  you  surely  do  not  object  to  an  artist,  for 
instance,  who  succeeds  in  his  endeavor,  that  there- 
fore he  cannot  be  great  ?  " 

"  I  say  that  unless  he  have  a  great  endeavor  he 
cannot  be  great,  and  the  mightier  the  ambition  the 
less  hope  of  fulfilling  it." 

"  Yet  there  must  be  a  certain  proportion  of  sue- 


A  CARPET  KXK;HT.  137 

cess,"  protested  Julia.  "  He  should  be  able  at  least 
to  inaki-  us  see  what  he  has  attempted." 

"He  certainly  should,  or  he  has  failed,  and  the 
world  has  no  use  for  him.  What  the  world  wants, 
however,  is  not  a  perfect  painter,  like  Andrea  del 
Sarto,  but  the  strength  and  grandeur  of  a  Michael 
Angelo,  whose  struggle  after  sublimity  is  forever 
recorded  in  his  clumsy  marbles.  It  does  not  treas- 
ure the  memory  of  a  Leigh  Hunt,  but  it  does  that 
of  a  Thackeray,  less  for  his  fine  insight  into  mo- 
tives than  for  his  large  contempt  for  what  is  mean 
and  petty,  his  faith  in  the  true  and  beautiful  al- 
ways peeping  out  between  his  sarcasms,  and  the  sad 
requiem  which  he  is  too  often  singing  over  pros- 
trate human  nature." 

"  I  think  the  world  is  more  in  sympathy  with 
science  just  now  than  with  art  of  any  kind,"  said 
Julia. 

"  I  think  so,  too,"  rejoined  Mr.  Drayton,  "  and  it 
has  substituted  speculation  for  religion.  But  if 
it  must  suffer  all  its  old  hopes  and  feelings  to  be 
knocked  on  the  head,  let  it  not  be  done  by  Mr. 
Herbert  Spencer,  with  his  deftly  spun  web  of  in- 
quiry and  careful  avoidance  of  conclusions,  but  give 
us  a  Darwin  to  do  it,  who  will  venture  to  offer  a 
new  theory,  on  which  the  startled  world  may  at  least 
rebuild  when  he  destroys  its  ancient  edifice." 

"  Philip  would  tell  you  that  you  do  Herbert 
Spencer  great  injustice.  He  says  that  he  is  not 
afraid  of  conclusions,  only  very  slow  in  reaching 
them  because  he  is  afraid  of  making  mistakes." 


138  A    CARPET  KNIGHT. 

"  Oh,  if  Philip  were  here  I  should  be  wary  of 
mentioning  the  name  of  his  paragon,"  said  Mr. 
Drayton,  smiling.  "But  do  me  the  justice  to  re- 
member that  I  did  not  say  that  he  was  afraid  of  con- 
clusions, only  that  he  avoided  them.  He  certainly  is 
not  afraid  of  leading  other  people  to  form  conclu- 
sions, or,  if  he  is,  he  must  quake  in  his  shoes  at  the 
amount  of  unbelief  which  he  has  scattered  broad- 
cast." 

"  Philip  makes  a  distinction  between  unbelief  and 
doubt." 

"  You  may  call  it  what  you  please.  I  only  know 
that  Mr.  Spencer  shuts  the  door  upon  divine  truth," 
replied  Mr.  Drayton  hotly. 

"  I  heard  Philip  declaring  the  other  day,"  con- 
tinued Julia,  with  provoking  coolness,  "  that  Mr. 
Spencer  was  no  atheist,  only  an  agnostic." 

"  I  remember,  too,"  said  Mr.  Drayton  dryly,  "he 
remarked  at  the  same  time  that  Mr.  Spencer  was 
seeking  to  find  divine  truth  by  the  process  of  exclu- 
sion. I  recall  the  expression  quite  distinctly."  He 
smiled  in  spite  of  himself  as  his  eyes  met  Julia's,  at 
which  she  laughed  from  sympathy. 

"  Was  that  not  too  delightful  ?  "  she  asked.  "  It 
ought  to  have  been  recorded." 

At  this  moment  her  maid  entered. 

"  Here  is  a  note,  Miss  Julia,"  she  said,  "  which 
Miss  Arnold  asked  me  to  give  you." 

"  Thank  you,  Annie.  I  shall  not  want  you  to- 
night." 

Julia  broke  the  envelope,  which  was  addressed 


A   CARPET  KNIGHT.  139 

to  her  in  pencil,  and  took  out  Edith's  note,  as  the 
servant  left  the  room. 

"  I  have  just  found  this  old  letter  of  yours,  dear 
Julia,  in  my  scrap-book,"  the  note  said.  "  How  it 
got  there  I  cannot  imagine,  but  it  must  have  been 
hidden  away  in  it  ever  since  that  summer  which 
you  spent  with  us  at  New  Rochelle.  I  have  a  fancy 
that  it  may  be  the  very  letter  which  we  were  talk- 
ing of  not  long  ago.  Do  you  not  remember  my 
telling  you  that  you  were  reading  a  letter  when  I 
first  saw  you  ?  It  is  odd  that  I  never  happened  to 
light  on  it  before.  Affectionately,  EDITH." 

Julia  looked  gravely  at  the  letter  for  a  moment. 
It  was  directed  to  her  in  characters  which  she 
knew  quite  well  as  those  of  her  mother.  She  drew 
off  the  envelope  with  a  touch  of  the  awe  we  feel 
in  opening  something  last  seen  by  eyes  which  see 
no  more.  Then  she  perceived  the  photograph, 
which  she  remembered,  too,  although  the  face  was 
younger  and  more  beautiful  than  she  had  known 
her  mother's.  It  represented  a  handsome  woman, 
dressed  in  the  extreme  of  the  fashion  of  about 
twenty-five  years  earlier,  —  the  very  period  of  which 
Mr.  Drayton  had  chanced  to  condemn  the  probable 
styles  in  illustrating  his  comparison,  a  half  an  hour 
before.  He  looked  up  now,  as  it  happened,  from 
the  book,  in  which  he  had  become  absorbed  again. 

"  What  have  you  got  there  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  An  old  photograph,  sir,  of  my  mother.  It  is 
one  which  she  sent  me  in  a  letter  many  years  ago, 
and  I  thought  that  it  was  lost." 


140  A   CARPET  KNIGHT. 

Julia  handed  him  the  picture,  as  she  spoke,  and, 
opening  the  letter,  glanced  over  the  faintly-written 
pages  until  her  eye  was  caught  by  a  sentence  which 
referred  to  the  photograph. 

"  You  ask  me  for  my  likeness,"  it  said,  "  but  I 
have  only  a  very  old  one  to  send  you,  child,  with 
some  stupid  nonsense  written  on  the  back  of  it.  I 
wish  I  had  known  you  wanted  one,  but  I  have 
given  all  the  last  I  had  taken  away." 

"  Of  course !  "  said  Julia  to  herself,  speaking  just 
below  her  breath.  Then  she  glanced  at  Mr.  Dray- 
ton,  and  noticed  that  he  was  gazing  at  the  picture 
with  an  expression  of  deep  sadness. 

As  she  looked  he  turned  it  over,  and  read  what 
was  on  the  other  side.  There  were  two  "verses. 
Julia  remembered  puzzling  over  their  meaning 
years  before,  and  wondering,  when  a  child,  who 
had  written  them.  Now,  as  she  watched  her  guard- 
ian and  re-read  the  lines,  a  sudden  thought  came  to 
her.  She  noticed  for  the  first  time,  with  bewilder- 
ment, that  the  handwriting  was  like  Mr.  Drayton's 
own. 

The  verses  ran  as  follows,  seeming  anything  but 
a  finished  production :  — 

"  I  have  loved  thee  so  that  I  could  die  for  thee, 

And  thou  hast  brought  me  ceaseless  pain  ; 
Lost  are  the  tears  I  shed  for  thee, 
And  the  sighs  were  sighed  in  vain  ! 

"  Oh,  give  me  back  the  faith  thou  'st  taken  from  me ! 

Oh,  give  me  back  my  youth's  high  aims ! 
Let  me  live,  if  I  must  live  without  thee, 
Without  thy  chains ! " 


A    CARPET  KXIUIIT.  141 

As  she  came  to  the  end  of  the  last  verse,  invol- 
untarily Julia's  eyes  sought  Mr.  Drayton's  with  a 
look  of  wonder,  and  she  saw  that  they  had  followed 
and  wore  resting  upon  hers. 

"  I  wrote  that,"  he  said,  with  a  bitter  smile.  "  Of 
course  I  did  not  expect  any  one  ever  to  see  it,  not 
supposing  that  the  portrait  would  pass  into  other 
hands*  than  mine,  I  was  very  young  at  the  time, 
and  very  foolish,"  he  added,  in  reply  to  her  startled 
look. 
.4'  And  was  —  the  picture  —  yours  ?  " 

"  It  was  then.  It  had  been  given  to  me,  but  I 
afterwards  thought  it  right  to  return  it  with  every- 
thing flst>  which  was  no  longer  mine." 

"  I  do  not  understand,"  said  Julia,  in  a  fright- 
ened tone. 

"Because  you  do  not  know,  Julia,  that  I  was 
once  engaged  to  be  married  to  your  mother." 

This  idea  was  so  surprising  that  Julia  could 
hardly  take  it  in.  There  was  a  long  pause.  Her 
brain  seemed  in  a  whirl.  She  had  a  confused  idea 
that  she  should  defend  her  mother,  if  possible,  for 
some  great  fault,  although  quite  conscious  that  she 
had  not  been  accused. 

u  Was  not  she,  too,  very  young?"  she  faltered 
at  last. 

"She  was  about  my  age,"  said  Mr.  Drayton, 
"  but  years  older  in  experience,  for  she  had  lived 
in  society  from  her  childhood.  She  liked  my  devo- 
tion for  a  while,  and  then  it  tired  her,  and  —  we 
parted." 


142  A   CARPET  KNIGHT. 

"And  my  father?" 

"  This  was  all  before  your  father  knew  her ;  nor 
did  he  ever  know  what  I  have  told  you.  He  met 
her  five  years  later,  in  Europe,  and  you  know  they 
were  married  abroad." 

"  I  supposed  —  I  thought  my  father  was  your 
friend." 

"He  was  my  dear  friend,  then  and  always," 
said  Mr.  Drayton,  earnestly,  —  "a  true-hearted, 
noble  man  ;  but,  as  it  happened,  I  had  not  told 
him  the  name  of  the  woman  whom  I  had  hoped  .to 
marry,  and  when  he  wrote  me  of  his  engagement 
I  determined  that  he  should  not  know,  through 
me,  what  would  only  have  given  useless  pain." 

"  How  hard  it  was  for  you !  " 

"  Not  so  very  hard,  my  child.  You  must  not 
make  a  hero  of  me.  I  had  outlived  my  youthful 
passion,  and  was  married  then  myself ;  but  I  did 
feel  the  separation  from  my  friend,  and  was  all  the 
more  deeply  touched  by  the  trust  your  father  put 
in  me,  when  he  left  you  to  my  care."  He  rose  as 
he  spoke,  and,  stooping,  kissed  her  on  the  forehead. 
"  Good-night,  my  Julia,"  he  said.  "  I  think  I  will 
go  out  for  a  little  stroll  before  I  go  to  bed." 

Julia  sat  quite  still  when  she  was  alone,  stunned 
by  the  shock  of  all  that  she  had  heard.  She  took 
up  the  photograph  again,  and  looked  at  it  long  and 
thoughtfully,  noting  the  strangely  hard  expression 
about  the  corners  of  the  mouth,  and  the  triumph- 
ant light  in  the  dark,  defiant  eyes  which  were  not 
unlike  her  own.  Then,  by  some  odd  link  of  asso- 


A   CARPET  KNIGHT.  143 

elation,  her  memory  traveled  back  to  a  scene  long 
past,  which  had  happened  in  her  childhood,  and  be- 
came once  more  vivid  in  her  imagination  as  if  it 
were  'happening  then,  while  its  full  meaning  was 
now  first  revealed  to  her  in  the  light  of  what  she 
had  just  been  told. 

She  seemed  to  be  standing  as  a  little  girl  in  the 
deep  embrasure  of  a  window,  the  curtain  half 
drawn  behind  her.  She  was  listlessly  looking  out 
upon  the  eager  bustle  of  a  dusty  New  York  street, 
when  she  heard  footsteps  in  the  room  behind  her, 
and  a  voice,  her  mother's  voice,  —  she  recognized  it 
perfectly,  —  said  in  a  f retf id  tone,  "  But  if  you  will 
not  take  the  child,  what  shall  I  do  with  her,  Al- 
gernon ?  " 

"  I  did  not  say  that  I  would  not  take  Julia,"  an- 
swered a  deep  voice  which  she  did  not  know,  then. 

"  But  you  say  that  you  will  only  take  her  on 
certain  conditions.  I  hate  conditions." 

"  I  say  that  I  shall  require  you  to  sign  a  paper 
giving  her  to  me." 

"  If  I  tell  you  that  I  will  give  her  to  you,  why  is 
not  that  enough  ?  " 

"  I  wish  you  to  resign  all  future  authority  over 
her." 

"Oh,  if  that  is  all,  I  do  it  now,  with  all  my 
heart." 

There  was  something  so  peculiarly  cold  and  care- 
less in  the  tone  of  this  answer  that  the  child  who 
heard  it  felt  the  hot  tears  starting  from  her  eyes, 
but  she  held  her  very  breath  with  a  fierce  determi- 


144  A    CARPET  KNIGHT. 

nation  to  make  no  sign  of  her  presence.  It  seemed 
that  the  tone  had  shocked  the  other  listener  also. 

"Do  you  not  care  at  all  for  your  little  girl,  Jose- 
phine ?  "  he  asked,  in  a  strange,  bewildered  way. 

"  I  like  you  to  call  me  that,"  she  answered,  with 
a  softer  intonation  in  her  voice.  "  It  reminds  me 
of  a  time  long  past.  So  you  care  for  Julia  for  my 
sake  ?  " 

There  was  a  pause,  but  when  the  man's  voice 
was  heard  again  it  was  charged  with  such  controlled 
anger,  such  concentrated  scorn,  that  it  seemed  as 
if  the  woman  whom  he  addressed  must  have  with- 
ered with  the  sound.  "  You  forget  that  Julia's 
father  was  my  dear  friend.  If  you  think  that  it  is 
for  your  sake  that  I  would  shelter  your  child,  you 
are  mistaken." 

What  followed  had  been  so  unintelligible  to  the 
little  girl  who  was  concealed  behind  the  curtain 
that  Julia  could  not  unravel  it  now  distinctly. 
There  had  been  more  angry  words,  and  then  a  fit 
of  weeping.  Julia  recollected  that  something  had 
been  said  about  a  broken  engagement,  a  hasty  mar- 
riage, and  Julia's  being  so  like  her  father.  Then 
fthere  had  been  a  word  or  two  of  reference  to  the 
'hew  tie  which  her  mother  was  about  to  form.  She 
^said  she  wanted  to  forget  all  about  the  old  one,  of 
which  Julia  was  a  constant  reminder. 

To  this  the  answer  had  been  given  calmly  and 
coldly.  Algernon  Drayton  had  promised  to  take 
the  child,  and  to  send  certain  papers  in  a  day  or 
two  to  be  signed. 


A    CARPET  KNIGHT.  145 

All  that  Julia  gleaned  was  the  fact  that  there 
was  some  one  who  had  known  her  father  and  cared 
for  her  for  his  sake,  and  that  this  might  constitute 
a  claim  upon  his  protection,  perhaps  his  love. 

A  few  days  later  she  had  been  sent  for  to  the 
drawing-room,  and  formally  presented  to  her  guard- 
ian. 

She  remembered  him  quite  distinctly,  sitting  on 
a  sofa,  and  how  he  had  risen  and  come  forward 
and  taken  her  little  hand  in  his.  She  remembered 
the  first  coming  home  to  the  house  in  Meredith 
Square,  and  how  amused  she  had  been  at  Philip, 
whom  she  found  a  chubby  little  boy,  in  a  round- 
about jacket,  and  what  good  friends  they  had  soon 
become.  But  what  she  remembered  most,  and  most 
distinctly,  through  everything,  was  Mr.  Drayton's 
kindness  ;  his  unfailing  charity  to  her  shortcom- 
ings, which  did  not  seem  to  vex  him  as  other  per- 
sons' did ;  his  tender  sympathy  when  she  was  ill 
or  suffering,  although  often  shown  in  an  odd,  half- 
humorous  way ;  and  his  real  pleasure  in  her  happi- 
ness when  she  had  reason  to  rejoice. 
10 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

"  Hope  tells  a  flattering  tale, 
Delusive,  vain,  and  hollow, 
Ah,  let  not  hope  prevail, 
Lest  disappointment  follow." 

WEOTHEB. 

IT  was  two  days  after  this  that  Miss  Arnold  first 
made  the  acquaintance  of  the  unfortunate  Mr. 
Hazzard,  of  whose  misadventures  she  had  heard  so 
much.  The  manner  of  his  introduction  was  rather 
abrupt,  —  as  unexpected,  in  fact,  to  the  celebrity  as 
to  herself.  It  happened  thus  :  — 

Mr.  Hazzard  had  a  bull-dog.  He  was  about  mid- 
dle height  among  bull-dogs,  stout  and  white,  with 
a  black  patch  over  one  eye,  red  eyelids,  cropped 
ears,  and  bandy  legs.  His  under  jaw  was  tremen- 
dous, and  his  grip  said  to  be  terrible  ;  but  he  was 
as  amiable  and  amenable  to  Charley  Hazzard's  be- 
hests as  a  bull-dog  should  be  to  those  of  his  lawful 
master. 

Mrs.  Davering  kept  two  men-servants,  one  of 
whose  chief  occupations  in  life  had  hitherto  been  to 
exercise  the  bull-dog.  'With  this  object  the  man 
had  been  in  the  habit  of  leading  him  forth  daily, 
by  a  heavy  steel  chain  attached  to  a  massive  leather 
collar,  on  which  was  inscribed  in  Roman  letters  the 
euphonious  name  of  "  Jig." 


A    CARPET  KM<;HT.  147 

Now,  however,  that  from  the  most  active,  inde- 
pendent, and  amiable  of  beings,  Mr.  Hazzard  had 
been  transformed  into  a  helpless,  rebellious,  irasci- 
ble invalid,  Jig's  servant,  Peter,  was  kept  so  busy 
waiting  on  his  master  that  he  had  no  time  to  de- 
vote to  Jig,  who  felt  the  injustice  sorely. 

He  missed  his  morning  walk,  day  after  day, 
and  his  temper  exhibited  as  unfavorable  a  change 
as  that  of  Mr.  Hazzard,  with  even  more  cause:  for 
one  daily  source  of  aggravation  to  Jig  was  the  be- 
havior of  a  large  mongrel  terrier  belonging  to  the 
baker's  boy,  who  came  in  the  way  of  business 
every  morning  to  the  yard  gate,  and  the  moment 
that  he  beheld  the  nose  and  fore-paws  of  the  im- 
prixnied  Jig  peeping  from  beneath  it  would  begin 
to  bark  and  snuff  and  jeer  at  him,  in  the  most 
offensive  of  dog  language,  as  who  should  say,  — 
"  Ha,  ha  !  Don't  you  wish  you  could  get  out  ?  I'm 
not  afraid  of  you !  "  and  wagging  his  tail  the 
while,  with  a  motion  which  seemed  to  express, 
"  Look  here,  how  free  I  am  !  I  go  everywhere  I 
] (lease.  I  am  not  fastened  with  a  chain." 

It  is  not  necessary  to  rehearse  the  deep  growls  of 
suppressed  wrath,  outraged  dignity,  and  finally  of 
menace,  with  which  these  taunts  were  received ; 
enough  be  it  to  say  that  repeated  interviews  of  this 
excited  nature  having  taken  place,  while  the 
baker's  boy  was  in  the  act  of  choosing  the  rolls 
from  his  covered  cart,  designed  for  Mr.  Hazzard's 
breakfast,  and  passing  them  to  the  expectant  cook 
through  a  square  opening  in  the  gate,  Jig's  feelings 


148  A   CARPET  KNIGHT. 

towards  the  baker's  dog  passed  beyond  his  own 
control. 

It  happened  one  day,  while  Dr.  Carey,  who  had 
gone  with  Philip  to  Washington,  was  away,  that 
Mr.  Hazzard  declared  that  he  must  have  some  fresh 
air. 

"  This  sort  of  thing,"  as  he  expressed  it,  could 
not  "go  on  any  longer,"  and  in  defiance  of  his 
friend's  orders,  he  had  himself  assisted  down  stairs, 
and  placed  in  an  open  barouche  in  which  he  sat 
with  one  leg  stretched  out,  and  his  lame  foot  rest- 
ing on  the  cushions  of  the  seat  opposite.  Then,  as 
he  really  entertained  a  deep  affection  for  Jig,  he 
invited  that  worthy  dog  to  take  the  seat  beside  him, 
which  Jig  did,  sitting  upright  upon  his  haunches, 
with  his  bowed  front  legs  planted  stiffly  immova- 
ble before  him. 

All  would  have  been  well  but  that,  as  ill  luck 
would  have  it,  the  time  chosen  by  Mr.  Hazzard  for 
his  first  drive  was  a  Saturday  afternoon,  when  it 
is  a  well-known  habit  with  bakers  to  send  their 
bread  about,  a  second  time  in  the  day,  preparatory 
for  Sunday. 

It  also  chanced  that  just  as  the  carriage  reached 
Meredith  Square,  and  was  passing  Mr.  Dray  ton's 
house,  the  baker's  boy  was  seeking  admission  at  a 
side  gate  which  opened  upon  a  narrow  passage- 
way leading  to  the  back  yard,  while  the  uncon- 
scious terrier  was  waiting  at  his  master's  heels, 
when  Jig's  piercing  gaze  detected  him. 

Uttering  a  low  growl  of  rage,  Jig  sprang  from 


A    CARPET  KNIGHT.  149 

his  high  place  of  honor,  miles  downward  in  the 
estimation  of  all  who  knew  him.  In  reality  he  was 
on  the  pavement  with  an  easy  bound,  and  would  in 
another  moment  have  fastened  upon  his  enemy,  if 
an  unlooked-for  obstacle  had  not  come  in  his  way.  * 

This  unforeseen  occurrence  was  Miss  Edith  Ar- 
nold. She  had  just  descended  the  steps  of  the 
house,  in  a  costume  appropriate  for  an  afternoon 
walk,  followed  by  Miss  Prescott,  when  she  received 
a  sudden  shock  from  behind.  Before  the  unex- 
pected force  of  it  she  tottered,  and  would  have  fallen, 
if  Julia  had  not  rendered  her  timely  assistance. 

At  the  same  instant  the  baker's  dog  recognized 
his  liberated  foe,  and  with  a  howl  of  dismay  sought 
shelter  in  the  yard,  the  gate  of  which  had  just  been 
opened.  The  baker's  boy  dropped  his  basket  and 
made  off  down  the  street  as  fast  as  he  could  go, 
shouting,  "  Mad  dog !  "  And  Peter,  dismounting 
from  the  box,  where  he  had  been  seated  beside  the 
coachman,  captured  the  discomfited  Jig. 

"  Are  you  hurt,  dear  ?  "  asked  Julia,  anxiously. 

"  I  think  not,"  answered  Edith,  still  pale  from 
the  effect  of  the  fright.  "The  dog  did  not  try  to 
bite  me.  I  do  not  know  what  he  wanted,  but  I 
was  evidently  in  his  way." 

"  That  is  one  fashion  of  putting  it,"  replied 
Julia.  "  I  thought  he  seemed  a  good  deal  more  in 
yours." 

"  My  head  feels  rather  queer." 

"Come  into  the  house  and  rest  for  a  moment." 

"  Oh,  it  is  nothing,"  said  Edith.     But  after  try- 


150  A    CARPET  KNIGHT. 

ing  to  walk  a  step  or  two,  she  confessed  that  she 
thought  she  might  be  better  for  keeping  quiet. 

"  I  think  you  had  better  give  up  the  walk  alto- 
gether," said  Julia  decidedly. 

During  this  conversation,  Mr.  Hazzard  had  been 
insisting  that  the  reluctant  Peter  should  help  him 
out  of  the  carriage,  and  now  appeared  at  the  door 
supported  on  a  crutch,  with  anxious  looks,  which, 
to  do  him  justice,  were  but  a  faint  expression  of 
the  regret  and  mortification  which  he  experienced. 

"  O  Mr.  Hazzard  !  "  cried  Julia.  "  How  can 
you  be  so  imprudent  as  to  bear  your  weight  on 
that  ankle !  " 

"  I  can't  help  it,"  said  Charley.  "  I  had  to  get 
out.  I  was  feeling  so  badly  about  Jig's  behavior. 
I  can't  think  what  got  into  the  dog,  to  fly  at  your 
friend.  Miss  Arnold,  is  it  not  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  replied  Julia,  smiling,  in  spite  of  her  dis- 
tress, at  the  absurdity  of  the  situation.  "  Let  me 
present  Mr.  Hazzard,  Edith,"  she  continued.  "  He 
is  anxious  to  apologize  for  the  conduct  of  his  dog." 

"  I  hope  you  are  not  seriously  hurt,  Miss  Ar- 
nold ? "  asked  Charley.  "  I  should  never  forgive 
myself,  if  you  were." 

"  Not  at  all,"  answered  Edith.  "  I  was  only 
startled.  I  shall  be  all  right  in  a  few  moments." 

They  went  into  the  house. 

"  Sit  down  here,  Edith,"  said  Julia,  helping  her 
into  an  easy  chair  in  the  drawing-room  ;  "  and  Mr. 
Hazzard,  you  sit  down  too,  please,  and  wait  until  I 
get  Miss  Arnold  a  glass  of  wine." 


A    CARPET  A'.\7 ////y.  151 

The  two  invalids  did  as  directed  and  were  left 
sitting  face  to  face,  in  a  manner  which  rendered  it 
essential  to  say  something ;  but  Charley  was  strug- 
gling with  the  disadvantage  of  not  knowing  what 
to  say,  and  Edith  with  an  untimely  inclination  to 
laugh,  which,  if  indulged,  she  feared  might  be  mis- 
interpreted to  the  f urther  confusion  of  the  unlucky 
young  man. 

The  awkwardness  of  the  situation  was  suddenly 
relieved  by  the  unexpected  appearance  of  Jig.  He 
had  managed  to  elude  Peter  during  his  master's 
difficult  descent  from  the  carriage,  and  had  slunk 
into  the  house  at  his  heels,  taking  refuge  under  Mr. 
IIa//ard's  chair.  He  now  ventured  to  thrust  his 
nose  forth,  and  snuff  in  a  penitent  manner,  follow- 
ing this  advance  by  rearing  himself  up  and  placing 
a  deprecatory  paw  on  his  master's  knee. 

"  Down  Jig  !  Are  n't  you  ashamed  of  yourself ! 
Bad  dog  ! ''  exclaimed  said  Mr.  Hazzard  severely. 
"  I  can't  imagine  what  possessed  you  to  behave 
so  rudely !  " 

"  Poor  dog  !  "  said  Edith,  touched  by  the  evident 
shame  of  the  recreant  under  this  stern  rebuke.  "  I 
assure  you  that  he  did  not  really  do  any  harm, 
Mr.  Hazzard.  It  is  not  worth  while  to  be  too 
hard  upon  him."' 

Jig's  expression  while  she  was  speaking  was 
worth  studjT.  He  certainly  understood  that  some 
one  had  taken  his  part,  for  he  blinked  hopefully  at 
his  master  from  the  crouching  attitude  which  he 
had  assumed ;  but  did  he  comprehend  enough  to 


152  A    CARPET  KNIGHT. 

realize  the  injustice  of  his  position,  without  any 
means  of  human  explanation  to  account  for  his  er- 
ratic conduct,  by  revealing  the  deep  sense  of  wrong 
in  his  canine  heart,  which  had  smouldered  there 
and  prompted  it  ? 

Partly  from  affection,  partly  from  sympathy, 
Mr.  Hazzard  seemed  to  divine  something  of  Jig's 
unhappy  plight. 

"  He  is  a  good  dog,  generally,  Miss  Arnold,"  he 
said  relentingly. 

"  I  am  sure  he  is,"  responded  Edith,  "  and  it 
would  be  very  unfair  to  blame  him  for  this  ebulli- 
tion of  energy,  for  nobody  knows  what  he  had  it  in 
his  mind  to  do.  It  may  have  been  some  act  of 
benevolence."  Jig  turned  up  his  eyes  at  this  mo- 
ment, and  looked  actually  saintly. 

"  It  is  partly  my  fault,"  said  Charley.  "  I  ought 
not  to  have  taken  him  without  a  chain.  He  has 
been  shut  up  for  a  long  while,  you  see,  Miss  Pres- 
cott,"  he  added,  turning  to  Julia,  who  returned  at 
this  moment,  "  and  he  has  got  unruly." 

"  Ah  !  I  know  what  you  are  afraid  of,  Mr.  Haz- 
zard," said  Julia,  laughing.  "  You  do  not  mind 
Miss  Arnold's  thinking  ill  of  you,  but  you  are  in 
great  dread  of  her  forming  an  evil  opinion  of  Jig." 

"  I  think  your  friend  is  very  kind  about  it," 
answered  Charley,  "and  it  is  fortunate  that  the 
dog  did  not  knock  her  down." 

"  I  am  sure  that  he  did  not  mean  to  knock  me 
down,"  said  Edith. 

"  I  am  sure  of  another  thing,"  said  Mr.  Hazzard : 


.1    c.Mll'ET  KXK.HT.  153 

"  that  he  must  have  given  you  an  awful  shock,  and 
there  are  not  many  people  who  would  take  it  so 
good-naturedly,  Miss  Arnold.  Will  you  let  me 
shake  hands  with  you  for  good-by,  —  and  you  too, 
Miss  Prescott  ?  " 

They  both,  smiling,  granted  his  request,  and  he 
and  Jig  departed. 

lit-  was  sueh  a  handsome  fellow  that  it  is  possi- 
ble that  his  looks  said  more  than  he  did  to  soften 
the  hearts  of  the  two  ladies  ;  but  however  this  may 
have  been,  they  gazed  after  the  retreating  carriage, 
containing  Jig  and  his  master,  not  unkindly,  con- 
sidering the  annoyance  he  had  caused  them. 

Julia  made  Edith  drink  the  wine  which  she  had 
brought  her,  and  insisted  upon  her  lying  down  on 
the  sofa  in  the  drawing-room. 

"  You  must  rest  here  for  a  while,"  she  said,  "  be- 
fore you  go  up-stairs.  No  one  will  disturb  you,  for 
everybody  is  out,  and  you  have  the  house  to  your- 
self. I  will  go  and  buy  your  gloves  and  the  other 
little  things  we  wanted  for  this  evening." 

Edith  smiled  and  thanked  her.  "  I  feel  better 
already,"  she  said,  "  but  I  will  promise  to  do  as  you 
prescribe." 

When  Julia  was  gone,  she  lay  still  for  some  time, 
with  her  eyes  closed.  The  silence  of  the  house  and 
the  dim  light  in  the  drawing-room,  which  was  al- 
ways half  in  shadow  from  the  heavy  curtains  at  the 
windows,  conspired  to  render  her  a  little  drowsy, 
and  without  expecting  it  she  fell  asleep. 

The  front  door  bell  was  rung  once  or  twice  with- 


154  A    CARPET  KNIGHT. 

out  awakening  her  ;  nor  was  she  conscious  of  the 
entrance  of  a  person  who  came  in  through  the  half- 
closed  doors  of  the  library,  with  a  book  in  his  hand, 
while  the  person,  who  chanced  to  be  Cecil  Wilmott, 
was  equally  unaware  of  her  vicinity.  He  had  been 
told  that  every  one  was  out,  and  having  gone  into 
the  library  to  get  a  late  number  of  the  "Atlan- 
tic," which  Mr.  Drayton  had  promised  to  send  his 
mother,  was  passing  out  through  the  drawing-room, 
when  he  was  surprised  to  see  some  one  on  the  sofa, 
and  approaching  a  step  or  two  nearer  perceived 
that  it  was  Miss  Arnold.  One  arm  had  been  used 
to  prop  herself  against  the  back  of  the  sofa,  and 
her  head  rested  upon  it,  with  its  soft  light  hair  in 
some  disorder.  Julia  had  thrown  an  afghan  over 
her,  and  placed  her  hat,  which  had  been  removed, 
with  her  little  muff,  on  a  chair  beside  her. 

Cecil  was  so  astonished  that  he  stood  still  for  a 
moment,  wondering  how  she  happened  to  be  there. 
Then,  instead  of  going  away,  as  he  was  perfectly 
conscious  that  he  should  have  done,  he  cautiously 
took  up  her  little  muff  and  laid  his  cheek  against 
the  soft  fur,  while  his  eyes  dwelt  upon  her  face. 
How  sweet  it  looked  in  its  repose  !  How  delicate 
the  color  in  the  fair  round  cheek !  What  a  lovely 
memory  of  a  smile  lingered  about  the  corners  of 
the  pretty  childlike  mouth,  and  yet  how  much  de- 
cision there  was  in  the  lines  of  the  soft  little  chin ! 

"  Her  mouth  is  her  best  feature.  It  is  exquisite," 
said  Cecil  to  himself  ;  but  at  that  moment  her  eye- 
lids trembled  and  unclosed,  and  her  startled  eyes 


A   CARPET  KNfGHT.  155 

met  his.  "  On  the  whole,  I  'm  not  sure  that  it  is," 
he  thought,  as  he  lost  himself  in  the  limpid  depths 
of  her  wondering  gaze. 

"  Mr.  Wilmott !  How  did  you  come  here  ?  "  she 
asked,  sitting  up  and  looking  about  her  with  be- 
wilderment. 

"  I  came  in  through  the  library,"  said  Cecil, 
blushing.  "  I  was  looking  for  a  book  for  my 
mother." 

"  Oh  !     Did  you  find  it  ?  " 

"  I  found  it,  and  I  found  you." 

"  But  how  did  I  come  to  be  asleep  in  the  draw- 
ing-room ?  "  asked  Edith,  with  a  puzzled  look. 

"  I  cannot  imagine." 

"Oh!  I  remember,"  she  proceeded,  in  a  more 
satisfied  tone.  "  It  was  the  bull-dog." 

"  Tl>e  bull-dog !  "  repeated  Cecil. 

"  Yes,  —  Mr.  Hazzard's  bull  -  dog.  He  nearly 
knocked  me  down,  and  I  felt  a  little  faint." 

"  I  see,"  said  Wilmott.  "  You  really  must  for- 
give me  for  my  intrusion." 

"  Of  course."  Edith  smiled.  "  How  strange  you 
must  have  thought  it  to  find  me  asleep !  " 

She  rose  from  the  sofa  as  she  spoke,  and  seated 
herself  in  a  chair,  passing  her  hand  lightly  over 
her  hair  as  she  did  so. 

Cecil  followed  the  gesture  appreciatively. 

"  It  is  all  right,"  he  said,  nodding.  "  Shall  I 
tell  you  of  what  you  reminded  me  when  I  found 
you  first  ?  " 

"  Of  what  ?  "  she  asked. 


156  A    CARPET  KNIGHT. 

"Of  that  little  picture  on  your  fan  which  you 
showed  me  the  other  day.  I  thought  you  were  like 
the  sleeping  lady,  and  I  was  like  the  fool." 

"  Were  you  here  long  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Not  very.  I  was  just  going  away  when  you 
woke  up." 

"  I  am  glad  that  I  woke  up,"  said  Edith. 

"  Why  are  you  glad  ?  " 

"  Because  the  idea  is  very  disagreeable  to  me  of 
some  one's  being  near  without  my  knowing  it.  I 
would  much  rather  have  seen  you." 

"  You  think  that  is  the  less  disagreeable  of  the 
two,  then  ?  "  asked  Cecil,  laughing. 

"  I  did  not  say  that  it  was  disagreeable  at  all," 
she  said  defiantly. 

"  When  are  you  going  to  let  me  have  the  copy 
of  verses  which  you  promised  ?  " 

"  I  will  get  them  for  you  now,  if  you  like.  I 
made  it,  as  I  said  I  would,  the  other  evening." 

She  was  glad  of  the  opportunity  to  slip  away  to 
her  own  room  and  rearrange  her  somewhat  disor- 
dered toilet. 

Cecil  read  the  "  Atlantic  "  while  she  was  gone, 
and  waited  very  patiently.  He  made  her  take  the 
most  comfortable  chair  in  the  room  on  her  return, 
having  placed  it  so  that  the  fading  light  fell  full 
upon  her  face. 

"  Here  it  is,"  she  said,  opening  a  dainty  little 
card-case,  which  she  kept  in  a  satchel  at  her  side. 

Cecil  took  the  folded  sheet  of  note-paper  on 
which  she  had  copied  the  verses,  in  a  fair  round 


A    CARPET  KMHH1 .  157 

hand,  and  she  watched  him  while  he  read  them, 
fancying  that  his  manner  was  rather  critical,  but 
he  smiled  and  thanked  her. 

THE  SLEEPING  LADY  AND  THE  FOOL. 

"  0  bride  of  sleep  !  of  waking  gladness  heir, 
Framed  in  thy  limn},'  wealth  of  golden  hair, 
How  nature  joins  with  art  to  make  thee  fair 
And  fatal  to  mankind  ! 

"  Why  should  each  breath  drawn  simply  for  life's  need 
Enhance  the  beauty  of  thy  form  to  feed 
The  longing  eyes  of  all  poor  fools  who  lead 
Their  lives  too  near  to  thine  ? 

"  Why  should  unconscious  movements  in  thy  sleep, 
Thy  head  turned,  to  thy  cheek  the  sudden  leap 
Of  color,  with  a  sigh  gentle,  yet  deep, 
Stir  all  a  poor  fool's  soul  ? 

"  Such  charm  has  nature  given  to  thy  dreams, 
That,  when  in  waking  hours  thy  bright  smile  gleams 
On  some  adorer  who  has  won,  it  seems, 
This  passing  sign  of  grace, 

"  The  maiden  arts  which  hedge  about  that  smile 
March  dignity  and  courtesy  in  file, 
Lest  its  receiver  should  grow  bold  the  while 
Thou  deftly  steal'st  his  heart. 

"  Such  arts  cease  to  be  dangerous,  grow  faint, 
Beside  the  living  picture  of  a  saint, 
Which  makes  me  only  long  that  I  could  paint 
Thee  sleeping —  I,  thy  fool." 

Thus  mused  a  motley  fellow  in  a  wood, 
Where  he  had  come  to  sing,  as  he  best  could, 
Because  his  lady  willed  that  he  should, 
Or  guard  her  if  she  slept. 


158  A    CARPET  KNIGHT. 

Trembled  the  oak  leaves  irf  the  morning  breeze, 
The  sunlight  glancing  through  them  played  at  ease 
About  the  massive  trunks,  and  humming  bees 
Filled  all  the  air  with  life, 

When  faintly  there  was  heard  a  bugle  blast, 
Distant  at  first,  but  drawing  nearer  fast. 
The  lady  started  up,  "  He  comes  at  last ! " 
She  cried  with  ecstasy. 

And  now  was  echoed  on  the  forest  road 
The  sound  of  horse's  feet,  as  on  they  strode, 
And  fleetly  bore  a  knight,  who  proudly  rode, 
With  mien  gentle,  yet  brave. 

The  lady,  filled  with  sudden  consciousness, 
Cast  down  her  eyes,  fearing  they  would  confess 
What,  more  she  strove  to  hide  she  hid  the  less, 
Her  burning  blushes'  cause. 

The  knight  had  reined  his  steed  in  a  heart  beat, 
One  bound  had  brought  him  to  the  lady's  feet, 
Kneeling  to  worship  there  with  protest  sweet 
And  ardent  vows  of  love. 

"  And  art  thou  really  come  ?  "  she  questioned  low, 
"  Back  from  the  fight  where  honor  bade  thee  go, 

To  her  who  loved  and  missed  and  mourned  thee  so 

She  almost  longed  to  die  ? " 

The  poor  fool  listened  not  nor  lingered  more. 
Much  had  he  learned  by  sight  of  lover's  lore, 
And  e'en  too  truly,  as  too  sadly  saw, 
What  such  discourse  foretold. 

He  sought  a  distant,  lonely,  forest  glade, 
And  cast  him  down  in  a  willow's  shade. 
He  did  not  weep  nor  laugh,  but  gravely  said, 
"  I  am  a  fool  indeed." 


A    CARPET  KNIGHT.  159 

"  Unfortunate  young  man  !  "  said  Wilmott,  as  he 
refolded  the  paper  and  put  it  in  his  pocket.  "  My 
comparing  myself  to  him  seems  to  have  been  quite 
prophetic.  I  wonder  whether  the  rest  of  the  poem 
will  come  true  ?  " 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Oh,  nothing.  I  was  only  wondering  who  wrote 
this  ballad  for  you." 

"  I  told  you  that  it  was  written  by  a  frieiid  of 
ours,  a  long  while  ago." 

"  A  friend  of  yours,  or  of  your  sister's  ?  " 

"  A  friend  of  both  ;  we  are  very  proud  of  his 
friendship." 

"  Indeed.     May  I  ask  why  ?  " 

"  Certainly.  We  admire  him  because  he  is  a 
man,  we  think,  of  great  ability,  and  his  life  has 
been  one  of  the  most  patient  scientific  research." 

"  For  which  of  you  does  he  make  verses  ?  " 

"  For  neither.  He  makes  them  for  his  own  amuse- 
ment, I  fancy ;  but  he  was  always  laughing  at  Ger- 
trude and  calling  her  romantic  because  she  believes 
in  a  great  many  things  which  he  calls  '  exploded 
fallacies,'  and  one  day  she  found  this  which  he  had 
written,  and  so  she  has  laughed  at  him  ever  since." 

"  Does  he  call  you  romantic  ?  "  asked  Cecil. 

"  Oh,  dear,  no !  "  she  answered,  laughing.  "  He 
knows  very  well  that  I  am  not.  My  sister  tells  me 
that  I  have  not  an  atom  of  romance  in  my  compo- 
sition." 

"  I  don't  believe  that,"  said  Wilmott. 

"Why?" 


160  A    CARPET  KNIGHT. 

"  I  think  you  have  made  quite  a  hero  of  romance 
in  your  imagination  of  this  very  individual,  who- 
ever he  may  be." 

Edith  laughed  again,  more  heartily  than  before. 

"  That  is  too  funny  !  If  you  could  only  see  him, 
you  would  understand  how  impossible  it  would  be 
to  make  a  hero  of  him.  Why,  he  wears  green  eye- 
glasses, and  he  is  a  professor  of  chemistry  at  Ho- 
boken  !  He  would  be  capable  of  reducing  any  ideal 
which  might  be  presented  to  him  to  its  original  el- 
ements in  five  minutes." 

"  But  he  must  be  inclined  to  be  sentimental  at 
times,  you  know,  to  do  this  sort  of  thing,"  said 
Cecil. 

"  Oh,  yes,  he  is  human,"  she  responded,  with  a 
merry  smile,  "  but  very  unheroic." 

"  He  is  not  like  the  knight  on  the  fan  then  ?  " 

"  Not  in  the  least.  Will  you  tell  me  what  time 
it  is,  Mr.  Wilmott  ?  I  am  afraid  I  must  go  up 
and  dress  for  dinner." 

"  Why  should  you  do  that  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  want  to  be  late." 

"  It  wants  an  hour  of  dinner  time." 

"  Julia  will  be  coming  home,"  she  said  uneasily, 
"  and  she  will  expect  me  to  be  resting,  as  she  asked 
me  to  do." 

"  Is  Julia  such  a  tyrant  ?  " 

"  Of  course  not,  but  she  did  not  want  me  to  be 
tired,  because  we  are  to  go  to  the  opera  this  even- 
ing." 

"  That  is  a  polite  way  of  telling  me  to  go." 


A    CARPET  KNHiHT.  161 

"  I  did  not  mean  to  tell  you  to  go,"  said  Edith, 
blushing. 

"  I  am  glad  of  that,  for  it  is  so  pleasant  to  sit 
here  and  talk  that  unless  you  insist  1  would  rather 
stay." 

"  But,  perhaps,  if  you  came  to  get  a  book  for 
your  mother  she  will  be  expecting  it." 

"  Was  that  the  only  reason  that  you  wanted  to 
send  me  away  ?  "  He  had  risen  and  was  leaning 
lightly  on  the  back  of  her  chair.  She  noticed  that 
his  manner  had  a  certain  fervor,  unlike  its  usual 
carelessness  of  tone. 

"  No  —  yes  —  I  do  not  know,"  she  said,  looking 
straight  before  her  so  that  he  could  not  see  her 
face. 

"  Tell  me  one  thing,"  said  Cecil  seriously,  "  and 
then  I  will  go  if  you  wish  it." 

"  I  did  not  say  that  I  wished  it.  What  is  the 
thing?" 

"  Why  do  you  think  that  I  likened  myself  to  the 
fool  in  the  ballad?" 

"  Was  it  because  you  wanted  me  to  tell  you  that 
you  were  not  at  all  like  him  ?  "  she  asked,  glancing 
up  with  a  shy  smile. 

"  On  the  contrary,  it  was  because  I  felt  very 
much  in  sympathy  with  him,  having  compared  you 
to  the  lady." 

"  I  suppose  that  was  due  to  your  having  found 
me  asleep." 

"  There  did  seem  an  unusual  resemblance  be- 
tween our  inward  and  our  outward  situations.  Do 
11 


162  A   CARPET  KNIGHT. 

you  remember  the  reason  you  said  the  fool  had 
to  render  him  foolish  —  or  sad,  was  it  you  called 
him?" 

"  I  do  not  remember  anything  about  it." 

"  Will  you  answer  one  other  question  ?  " 

"  I  cannot  tell,  until  you  ask  it." 

"  It  is  not  much.  I  only  want  to  know  whether 
there  is  any  knight  in  this  case  ?  "  He  seafed  him- 
self on  a  low  footstool  beside  her  chair,  and  turned 
and  looked  up  as  he  spoke." 

"In  what  case?" 

"In  your  case?  Are  you  expecting  some  one 
else  ?  "  he  asked  earnestly. 

She  was  quite  taken  by  surprise,  and  there  was 
so  much  magnetism  in  the  devoted  expression  of 
his  face  as  he  raised  it  to  hers  that  for  a  moment 
she  could  not  speak.  Her  eyes  answered  his,  say- 
ing she  knew  not  what,  and  it  was  with  a  great 
effort  that  she  withdrew  them  and  rose  from  her 
seat. 

"  I  am  expecting  nothing,"  she  said. 

"  You  might  give  me  a  fair  answer  !  "  cried  Ce- 
cil, who  had  risen  also.  "  I  simply  ask  you  whether 
some  one  has  been  before  me,  some  one  who  cared 
for  you  ;  will  you  not  tell  me  ?  " 

She  was  leaning  against  the  piano,  and  he  was 
leaning  beside  her  with  his  arm  upon  it. 

"  I  do  not  think  that  any  one  has  ever  cared  for 
me,"  she  said,  "  if  that  is  what  you  want  to  know." 

"  And  you  ?  "  he  asked  quickly.  "  Have  you 
ever  cared  for  any  one  ?  " 


A  CARPET  KNIGHT.  163 

"You  have  no  right  to  ask,"  she  said  indig- 
nantly. 

'*  Then  there  has  been  some  one  ?  " 

"  How  simply  absurd  !  "  she  exclaimed,  trying  to 
laugh.  "  Of  course  there  has  not."  She  fancied 
he  spoke  that  she  heard  Julia's  voice  at  the 
front  door. 

"  It  was  a  foolish  question,"  said  Cecil,  "  but  I 
feel  better,  since  you  answered  it." 

They  were  both  silent  for  a  moment.  Edith  half 
regretted  Julia's  entrance  at  the  end  of  it,  in  a 
vague,  tiniva«»nal>le  way  \\hicli  she  could  not  under- 
stand, and  she  felt  quite  sure  that  Cecil  did.  He 
went  forward  to  greet  Miss  Prescott  with  his  usual 
easy  manner,  but  it  was  as  though  a  spell  had  been 
broken. 

••  I  am  glad  to  see  you,"  said  Julia  cordially,  to 
Cecil.  "  Is  that  Edith  ?  How  are  you  dear  ?  It 
is  growing  so  dark  that  I  did  not  see  you  at  first." 

"  I  feel  better,  thank  you,"  answered  Edith 
faintly. 

"  I  do  not  think  Miss  Arnold  is  quite  herself 
yet."  said  Cecil.  "What  a  fright  that  bull-dog 
must  have  given  her.  It  is  too  bad  of  me  to 
have  detained  you  all  this  time !  "  he  added,  turn- 
ing again  to  Edith,  who  had  risen  and  was  evi- 
dently about  to  leave  the  room.  He  held  out  his 
hand  as  though  to  say  good-night,  but  she  slipped 
by  without  noticing  it  and  escaped  to  her  own 
chamber. 

"  How  long  have  you  been  here  ?  "  asked  Julia 
in  a  very  quiet  tone,  after  she  had  gone. 


164  A    CARPET  KNIGHT. 

"I  hardly  know,"  said  Cecil  carelessly ;  "about 
an  hour,  I  think."- 

"  Did  you  find  Edith  in  the  drawing-room  ?  " 

"  She  was  asleep  on  the  sofa." 

"  Asleep  !    Did  you  wake  her  ?  " 

"  Not  intentionally  of  course.  The  noise  of  my 
entrance  may  have  done  so." 

"  Cecil,"  said  Julia,  "  there  is  something  about 
which  I  should  like  to  speak  to  you.  May  I  do  so 
now  ?  " 

"  With  all  my  heart,"  replied  Cecil,  "  but  do  you 
not  think  it  is  getting  a  trifle  dark  here?  It 
might  be  well  to  ring  for  lights." 

"  So  it  is,"  responded  Julia,  crossing  the  room  to- 
wards the  bell,  "  and  it  is  late,  too.  I  am  afraid 
I  shall  hardly  be  ready  in  time  for  dinner." 

"  I  am  very  sure  that  I  shall  not,"  said  Cecil, 
"  and  I  am  to  dine  out.  I  can  come  to  see  you  to- 
morrow at  any  time  you  like." 

"  Perhaps  that  would  be  better,"  assented  Julia, 
"  or  it  will  do  any  time  next  week.  Is  it  not  next 
week  that  we  promised  to  lunch  with  Charlotte  ?  " 

"  To  be  sure,"  said  Cecil  cheerfully.  "  You  can 
talk  to  me  then  as  much  as  you  please." 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

"  But  optics  sharp  it  needs  I  mean, 
To  see  what  is  not  to  be  seen." 

JOHN  THUMBCLL. 

"  THERE  is  your  friend  Miss  Prescott,  my  dear," 
said  Mr.  Davering,  in  the  middle  of  the  second  act 
of  the  opera  that  evening,  pointing  to  a  proscenium 
box  which  was  very  plainly  in  view  from  the  stock- 
holders' seats,  among  which  he  and  Mrs.  Davering 
were  sitting. 

"  Is  it  possible  that  you  have  only  just  found  her 
out,  Buchanan  ?  "  asked  his  wife,  with  a  look  of 
amusement.  "  Why,  we  interchanged  nods  before 
the  opera  began  !  " 

"  She  has  her  pretty  friend  with  her,"  said  Mr. 
Davering,  pursuing  his  investigations  with  the  aid 
of  an  opera  glass,  undisturbed  by  Mrs.  Davering's 
animadversions.  "  And  there  is  that  friend  of 
Charley's  from  Boston.  He  is  talking  to  her.  I 
think,  my  dear,  that  Dr.  Carey  is  inclined  to  admire 
Miss  Prescott.  I  thought  he  seemed  quite  atten- 
tive the  other  night  at  dinner." 

"Did  you  indeed?"  said  Mrs.  Davering  un- 
easily, but  with  more  respect,  since  this  had  been 
the  result  of  her  own  reluctant  observation.  "  I 
don't  think  Julia  fancies  him.  He  is  too  much  of 


166  A  CARPET  KNIGHT. 

a  prig,"  she  continued  half  to  herself  by  way  of  re- 
assurance, "  but  he  will  keep  me  from  having  her 
at  the  house  now  that  he  has  returned  from  Wash- 
ington, and  altogether  I  wish  he  would  go  back  to 
Boston." 

"We  must  not  be  inhospitable,  my  dear,"  said 
Mr.  Davering,  with  good-humored  malice. 

His  wife  colored  and  was  silent.  She  had  hardly 
noticed  that  she  was  speaking  her  thoughts  aloud, 
but  had  learned  by  experience  that,  obtuse  as  her 
husband  appeared,  he  had  a  perverse  way  of  seeing 
into  things  when  least  expected  to  do  so. 

"I  noticed  another  thing  the  other  evening,"  said 
Mr.  Davering  sagely,  pleased  at  the  attention  with 
which  his  last  discovery  had  been  received. 

"What  was  that?" 

"  I  noticed  that  Drayton  was  unusually  devoted 
to  this  little  Miss  Arnold,  and  I  see  he  is  talking 
to  her  again  to-night.  Julia  Prescott  had  better 
look  out  for  her  friend  unless  she  is  ready  to  abdi- 
cate in  her  favor." 

"  My  dear  Buchanan,  who  are  you  talking 
about  ? "  exclaimed  his  wife,  in  profound  amaze- 
ment. "  Do  you  mean  Philip,  or  his  father  ?  " 

"  I  mean  Algernon  Drayton,  of  course.  Who 
ever  thought  of  making  love  to  Philip  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know,  I  am  sure,"  said  Mrs.  Daver- 
ing helplessly.  "  Miss  Arnold  was  near  me  at 
dinner,  and  I  should  not  have  suspected  her  of 
making  love  to  any  one." 

"  Look  at  her  now,  then,"  returned  Mr.  Davering 


A    CARPI'.T  KXICIIT.  167 

triumphantly.  "  I  do  not  say  that  she  is  doing  it 
all,  of  course." 

"The  idea  of  Algernon  Drayton's  troubling  him- 
self about  a  shy  little  girl  like  that !  "  answered  his 
wife,  incredulously,  but  she  was  impressed  with  the 
originality  of  the  idea  at  first,  and  then  with  the  con- 
venience with  which  such  a  discovery,  if  it  proved 
to  be  true,  would  harmonize  with  her  own  plans. 

She  had  already  perceived  that  the  task  of  mar- 
rying Julia  to  her  son  was  beset  with  growing  diffi- 
culties, of  which  Dr.  Carey's  admiration  for  the 
heiress  was  not  the  greatest.  The  chief  trouble 
which  she  had  to  contend  with  was  Julia's  perfect 
contentment  with  her  present  surroundings.  The 
girl  was  too  happy  to  wish  for  any  change.  If  her 
home  were  a  little  less  to  her  liking  she  might 
more  easily  be  induced  to  leave  it,  and  the  benevo- 
lent fairy,  who  busied  herself  so  disinterestedly  in 
her  welfare,  began  to  wonder  whether  she  might 
not  assist  Fate  a  little  in  bringing  this  about.  She 
turned  her  eyes  as  she  did  so  towards  the  box  at 
which  her  husband  was  still  gazing,  but  saw  little 
to  support  his  assertion. 

Mr.  Draytoii  was,  indeed,  seated  beside  Miss 
Arnold,  talking  to  her,  apparently,  with  some  ear- 
nestness. Dr.  Carey,  who  had  returned  that  even- 
ing from  his  visit  to  'Washington,  in  company  with 
Philip,  seemed  also  to  be  making  himself  very 
agreeable  to  Julia,  while  Philip  himself  stood  just 
behind  him,  and  appeared  to  be  the  only  person  in 
the  box  who  took  any  interest  in  the  opera.  He 


168  A   CARPET  KNIGHT. 

evidently  was  enjoying  the  singing,  but  just  then 
the  curtain  fell,  and  the  situation  was  altered.  Mr. 
Drum  Kettleby  made  his  entrance  at  the  back  of 
the  box,  in  a  mood,  as  it  seemed,  to  be  very  conde- 
scendingly grackms.  He  conversed  for  a  moment 
or  two  with  Miss  Prescott,  and  then  proceeded  to 
address  himself  to  her  friend  in  a  manner  which 
proclaimed  that  she  had  found  favor  in  his  eyes. 
Mr.  Drayton  yielded  his  seat  with  great  urbanity 
to  the  new-comer,  and,  after  standing  up  and  look- 
ing about  him  with  an  amiable  but  rather  bored 
expression,  left  the  box.  He  was  a  stockholder,  and 
Mrs.  Davering  was  presently  pleased  to  see  him 
making  his  way  to  where  she  was  sitting,  just  as 
her  husband  had  left  her  side. 

"  Good  evening,  Mrs.  Davering.  I  thought  I 
should  find  you  here.  Did  not  you  tell  me  last 
winter  that  'Carmen'  was  your  favorite  opera?" 

"  Did  I  ?     I  had  forgotten." 

"  You  may  possibly  only  have  said  that  the  hero- 
ine was  your  favorite  character." 

"  I  am  quite  sure  that  I  never  told  you  that." 

"  I  can  hardly  be  mistaken.  You  said  that,  or 
something  like  it,  apropos  of  Mrs.  Percy's  having 
chosen  to  represent  '  Carmen '  at  the  fancy  ball." 

"  Oh,  I  remember  now.  You  were  surprised  at 
her  having  chosen  the  character  of  '  Carmen,'  and 
I  was  not.  I  thought  that  in  her  the  choice  was 
quite  natural." 

"  Why,  yes,"  said  Mr.  Drayton.  "  I  rather  gath- 
ered that  '  Carmen '  was  your  ideal." 


A   CARPET  KMHIIT.  169 

"  I  did  not  say  that  it  was  a  character  I  should 
have  chosen  i'ur  myself." 

••  Ah,  I  see.     It  was  your  ideal  for  Mrs.  Percy." 

.Mrs.  Davering  laughed  rather  nervously. 

"  What  a  satirical  man  you  are,"  she  said. 

"  To  be  fair  with  you,"  continued  Mr.  Drayton, 
"  I  will  confess  that  it  suited  Mrs.  Percy's  style  to 
perfection.  She  looked  charmingly,  and  she  is 
looking  very  well  to-night.  Seeing  her  here  re- 
minded me  of  the  incident." 

He  bowed  as  he  spoke  to  a  lady  who  occupied 
the  proscenium  box  in  the  second  tier,  opposite  to 
the  one  which  Philip  had  taken  for  their  own 
party.  She  was  surrounded  by  quite  a  gay  circle, 
in  which  there  were  more  gentlemen  than  ladies, 
and  was  herself  a  very  brilliant  centre  to  the 
group,  as  she  was  strikingly  handsome,  and  arrayed 
in  some  white  material  in  which  threads  of  gold 
seemed  so  woven  that  they  caught  the  light  as  she 
moved. 

"  I  did  not  know  that  you  had  such  an  admira- 
tion for  Mrs.  Percy,"  remarked  Mrs.  Davering. 

"  I  am  very  apt  to  admire  what  is  beautiful," 
said  Mr.  Drayton  wickedly,  for  he  knew  that 
there  was  no  love  lost  between  Mrs.  Davering  and 
Mrs.  Percy,  although  there  was  the  semblance  of  a 
good  understanding,  as  often  happens  with  rival 
leaders  of  fashion. 

The  older  lady,  who  had  been  courted  for  many 
years  for  her  position  and  her  husband's  wealth, 
although  she  had  never  received  so  much  personal 


170  A   CARPET  KNIGHT. 

attention  as  the  other,  was  jealous  of  the  ascend- 
ency which  the  younger  one  was  attaining  just  as 
her  own  star  began  to  wane. 

"  I  was  just  saying  to  Buchanan,"  she  ventured, 
"  what  a  pretty  girl  Miss  Arnold  is." 

"  So  she  is,"  said  Mr.  Drayton  heartily ;  "  and 
a  very  good  little  girl,  too,  I  think."  He  glanced 
up  at  the  box  as  he  spoke,  and  smiled  at  Julia,  who 
happened  to  catch  his  eye. 

"  I  see  she  is  in  a  style  you  admire  also,"  said 
Mrs.  Davering,  scoring  one ;  "  but  to  my  thinking 
there  is  no  one  as  handsome  as  Julia." 

"  I  am  not  sure  that  every  one  would  consider 
Julia  handsome,"  said  Mr.  Drayton,  looking  away 
towards  the  drop-curtain,  with  a  shade  of  reserve 
in  his  tone. 

"  I  am  quite  sure  that  Dr.  Carey  does,"  said 
Mrs.  Davering. 

Mr.  Drayton  turned  again  towards  the  box. 

"Yes,"  he  answered.  "I  think  that  Dr.  Carey 
admires  Julia ;  but  they  are  old  friends,  you  know." 

"  Do  not  put  too  much  faith  in  their  friendship," 
said  the  lady. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Drayton, 
with  an  odd  note  of  emotion  in  his  tone  which  was 
otherwise  carefully  guarded. 

"  I  do  not  know,  of  course,"  said  she  ;  "  but  I 
am  inclined  to  think  him  serious  about  Julia.  Mrs. 
Wilmott  was  saying  the  other  day  what  a  pity  it  is 
that  he  is  a  Unitarian,  when  you  have  such  a  strong 
objection  to  all  forms  of  dissent." 


A    CARPET  A* AY/,7/ y.  171 

"  If  Lawrence  Carey  has  been  making  himself 
agreeable  to  Charlotte  it  is  quite  natural,  as  a 
woman  and  Charlotte's  mother,  that  rny  sister 
should  interest  herself  in  his  religious  faith." 

"  You  mistake  me,"  said  Mrs.  Davering,  with  a 
puzzled  look.  "  I  did  not  say  that  he  was  inter- 
ested in  Charlotte  Wilmott,  but  in  Julia." 

"  So  I  understood,"  returned  Mr.  Drayton  impen- 
etrably, "  and  in  that  case  he  would  only  have  me 
to  deal  with.  I  should  be  much  more  anxious  on 
some  other  points.  Whether  he  were  a  good  man, 
for  instance,  one  calculated  to  make  my  ward 
happy,  and  had  gained  her  entire  affection." 

"  Oh,  but  1  did  not  say  that  Julia  was  thinking 
of  marrying  him,"  cried  Mrs.  Davering  hastily,  "or 
that  she  is  in  love  with  him,  or  anything  else." 

"  You  will  forgive  me  for  confessing  that  even 
your  having  said  so  would  hardly  establish  so  un- 
demonstrable  an  assertion  in  my  mind  beyond  the 
chance  of  misinterpretation." 

"  Oh,  dear,  no  !  Of  course  not.  All  I  meant 
was  that  I  suppose  Julia  will  fancy  some  one  some 
day." 

"  I  hope  so." 

"  Then  you  will  encourage  her  marrying?"  asked 
the  lady  eagerly. 

"  I  shall  have  no  control  over  Julia's  actions  at 
the  expiration'  of  another  year,"  replied  Mr.  Dray- 
ton  coldly. 

"  It  is  not  so  much  a  question  of  control  as  of 
influence,"  said  Mrs.  Davering.  "  Julia  is  a  girl 


172  A   CARPET  KNIGHT. 

whom  it  is  so  difficult  to  make  see  her  true  inter- 
ests." 

"  Pray  what  do.  you  take  them  to  be?"  asked 
Mr.  Drayton  dryly. 

"  Why,  those  of  every  girl.  To  make  hay  while 
the  sun  shines.  I  wish  she  would  learn  to  do  that." 

"  Julia  has  known  how  to  make  hay  from  the 
beginning,  I  fancy,"  said  her  guardian,  "  if  she 
wished  to  make  it,  and  she  has  wit  enough  to  serve 
for  sunshine  on  the  dullest  day." 

"  Yes,  she  has  wit  enough,  but  she  is  so  unim- 
pressionable, and  what  is  the  use  of  knowing  how 
to  take  advantage  of  circumstances  if  she  does  not 
take  the  advantage  ?  Her  life  cannot  go  on  for- 
ever as  it  is  doing  now." 

"  That  is  equally  true  of  the  rest  of  us,"  said  Mr. 
Drayton,  with  a  sigh,  and  then  he  left  Mrs.  Dav- 
ering,  little  dreaming  the  construction  which  she 
would  put  on  this  innocent  remark. 

Miss  Arnold,  meanwhile,  was  already  wearying  of 
Mr.  Drum  Kettleby's  elegant  attentions,  and  gladly 
acceded  to  Philip's  suggestion  of  going  with  him 
to  the  front  of  the  house,  so  as  to  have  a  full  view 
of  the  stage  when  the  curtain  rose.  She  had  quite 
missed  Philip  during  his  absence,  and  he  seemed 
equally  glad  to  see  her  again,  for  since  their  con- 
versation on  the  day  of  the  dinner  a  pleasant 
friendly  confidence  had  been  established  between 
them,  and  she  would  have  been  glad  now  to  be 
able  to  ask  him  a  few  questions  about  his  visit  to 
the  capitol,  but  although  she  had  accepted  his  arm 


A    CARPET  KN1C11T.  173 

to  walk  through  the  corridor,  this  might  not  be, 
for  Mr.  Drum  Kettleby  insisted  on  walking  at  her 
other  sidr,  much  to  Philip's*  displeasure.  He 
chanced  to  have  no  liking  for  this  favorite  of  for- 
tune. 

"  The  Academy  is  really  worth  seeing,  you 
know,"  suid  Mr.  Drum  Kettleby.  "  It  is  a  very 
respectable  size,  as  opera  houses  go,  but  it  is  noth- 
ing this  evening  compared  to  what  it  is  at  an  as- 
sembly. You  will  be  at  the  Assembly,  of  course, 
Miss  Arnold  ?  " 

Edith  acknowledged  that  she  should. 

"  That  is  delightful !  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Drum  Ket- 
tleby, on  learning  that  she  was  to  appear  under  the 
wing  of  Mrs.  Davering.  "  I  speak  for  the  cotil- 
lon. I  trust  you  have  not  already  promised  the 
cotillon  ?  " 

"  I  have  not,  indeed,  or  thought  of  it." 

"  Then  I  may  have  it  ?  " 

"  The  Assembly  is  nearly  a  week  off.  Is  it  not 
a  long  while  ahead  to  make  an  engagement  ?  "  she 
asked  innocently 

"  A  long  while  !  "  cried  Mr.  Drum  Kettleby. 
"  Why,  I  am  astonished  to  find  you  still  free  to 
give  me  a  dance,  I  do  assure  you." 

"  I  had  intended  to  ask  you  to  dance  the  Ger- 
man with  me,  Miss  Arnold,"  said  Philip,  in  an  un- 
usually haughty  tone. 

"I  am  your  guest,  you  know,"  said  Edith  sweetly, 
"  and  quite  at  your  disposal." 

"  Oh,  but  I  do  protest,  Miss  Arnold,"  broke  in 


174  A    CARPET  KNIGHT. 

Mr.  Drum  Kettleby,  "  that  that  is  the  most  un- 
heard-of partiality,  to  dance  with  Mr.  Drayton, 
when  I  was  the  first  to  ask  you." 

"  Perhaps  you  had  better  revoke  your  decision, 
Miss  Arnold,"  said  Philip.  "  It  is  quite  unheard- 
of  partiality  to  prefer  any  one  as  a  partner  to  Mr. 
Drum  Kettleby." 

"  I  really  do  not  know  what  I  ought  to  do," 
answered  Edith,  opening  her  large  blue  eyes  and 
looking  from  one  to  the  other  in  much  perplex- 
ity. 

"  Oh,  but  there  is  no  doubt  about  it  at  all,  you 
know,"  cried  Mr.  Drum  Kettleby.  "  It  is  not  a 
question  of  whom  you  prefer  as  a  partner,  of 
course,"  he  conceded,  with  an  air  of  modesty,  "  but 
simply  of  who  asked  you  first." 

"  Is  that  really  the  rule  ?  "  asked  Edith,  looking 
to  Philip  for  counsel. 

He  was  touched  by  the  trust  implied  in  her  ap- 
peal to  him,  and  by  a  certain  half-confessed  assur- 
ance which  it  contained  that  she  preferred  him. 
Indeed,  so  natural  did  the  preference  seem  to 
Edith,  that  she  was  at  little  pains  to  conceal  it,  ex- 
cept so  far  as  civility  to  Mr.  Drum  Kettleby  de- 
manded, and  Mr.  Drum  Kettleby  was  by  no  means 
thin-skinned.  Philip  was  mollified,  and  made  an 
effort  to  conquer  his  ill  humor. 

"  I  will  tell  you  how  we  can  arrange  it,"  he  said. 
"You  shall  dance  the  German  with  Mr.  Drum 
Kettleby  and  give  me  the  pleasure  of  taking  you 
to  supper." 


A   CARPET  KNIGHT.  175 

"  I  will  do  so  gladly,"  she  answered,  with  a  grate- 
ful smile. 

"  Come  now,  that  is  excellent ! "  cried  Mr.  Drum 
Kettleby.  "That  will  be  grand,"  and  with  this 
pleasure  in  prospect,  he  bade  them  good  evening, 
ami  proceeded  to  pay  his  respects  to  Mrs.  Percy. 

The  whole  of  this  weighty  conversation  had  /iot 
taken  more  than  five  minutes,  but  Edith  saw  him 
depart  with  a  sense  of  relief. 

"  You  look  pale  to-night,"  said  Philip  kindly. 
"  Do  you  not  feel  well  ?  " 

"  I  am  a  little  tired,"  she  admitted,  "  but  what 
a  pretty  sight  it  is  !  Ah,  there  goes  the  curtain  ! 
I  had  no  idea  the  stage  was  so  deep." 

They  were  standing  at  the  opening  of  one  of  the 
passageways  which  led  into  the  auditorium  between 
the  small  boxes,  exactly  in  the  centre  of  the  house. 
Looking  downward  over  all  the  gay  toilets  in  the 
curving  rows  of  the  dress  circle,  and  across  the 
crowded  parquet,  they  were  greeted  by  the  Gipsy 
Scene  in  "  Carmen."  The  motley  groups  of  idlers, 
some  playing  cards,  some  drinking,  the  camp  in  the 
middle  distance,  and  the  mountains  and  blue  valleys 
represented  against  a  pale  blue  sky  by  the  farthest 
scenery,  lent  so  much  illusion  as  to  make  the  view 
seem  to  stretch  away  with  the  indefiniteness  of  a 
real  landscape. 

Compared  with  the  marvels  of  scenic  effect  so 
often  produced  in  the  great  continental  theatres, 
there  was  not  so  much  to  admire  perhaps  as  to  crit- 
icise, but  to  the  inexperienced  young  person  from 


176  A   CARPET  KNIGHT. 

New  Rochelle,  the  whole  thing  was  complete,  and 
the  music  and  the  scene  together  wrought  upon  her 
fancy  with  almost  the  force  of  reality.  "  Do  you 
know  I  never  saw  and  heard  a  whole  opera  be- 
fore ?  "  she  said  to  her  companion,  with  a  solemnity 
which  amused  him. 

AJ^hen  they  returned  to  the  box  Dr.  Carey  had 
gone  and  Mr.  Drayton  and  Julia  were  there  alone. 

"  We  were  thinking  of  coming  to  look  for  you," 
said  Julia. 

"  Speak  for  yourself,  my  dear.  I  was  not,"  said 
Mr.  Drayton.  "  I  was  resolved  upon  the  let-alone 
policy  which  Bo-peep  originated,  and  which  has  be- 
come so  popular  in  our  day.  The  event  proves 
that  it  would  have  worked  well." 

"  Oh,  the  stage  was  so  beautiful,  Julia,  from 
where  we  were  standing  !  "  cried  Edith.  "  I  wish 
you  could  have  seen  the  gipsy  camp  as  we  did." 

"  I  have  been  enjoying  a  very  pretty  scene  my- 
self," said  Julia,  "  and  am  inclined  to  think  that  it 
is  a  mistake  to  roam  abroad  in  search  of  distant 
views.  Nearer  ones  are  more  to  my  taste,  but 
Philip  is  always  a  rolling  stone." 

"  Let  us  see  some  of  the  moss  you  have  been 
gathering,"  said  Philip. 

"  Look  in  the  box  opposite.  Is  that  not  an  an- 
imated picture  ?  " 

"  Mrs.  Percy,  you  mean  ?  She  is  hardly  as  good 
as  an  opera." 

"  She  is  worth  fifty  operas,"  said  Mr.  Drayton, 
"  if  one  is  near  enough  to  hear  the  music." 


A    CARPET  KNIGHT.  Ill 

"  Perhaps  she  is,"  replied  Kilith,  thoughtfully, 
"although  I  had  not  noticed  her  before." 

"  There,  you  see,  Philip,  I  have  the  majority  on 
my  side,"  cried  Julia  triumphantly. 

"  You  are  apt  to  do  so  in  espousing  one  so  popu- 
lar. There  is  Lawrence  Carey,  I  see,  and  Cecil 
Wilmott.  I  thought,  by  the  bye,  that  Cecil  was 
due  at  the  University  supper  to-night." 

"  He  told  me  that  he  was  to  dine  out,  too,"  said 
Julia.  "  I  suspected  that  it  was  with  Mrs.  Percy." 

"  Cecil  is  a  young  gentleman  of  multifarious  en- 
gagements," said  Mr.  Drayton ;  but  Edith  said 
nothing.  She  turned  her  eyes  determinately  to- 
wards the  stage,  yet  she  saw  Cecil  Wilmott  all  the 
time,  seated  in  an  easy  attitude  beside  Mrs.  Percy, 
and  talking,  as  he  sometimes  talked  to  her.  Mean- 
while the  opera  advanced.  The  last  thrilling  scene 
was  begun. 

"  Who  is  that  pretty  girl  opposite  ?  "  asked  Mrs. 
Percy.  "  Her  face  is  new  to  me." 

"  What  girl  ?  "  returned  Cecil  carelessly,  "  there 
are  so  many." 

"  I  mean  in  the  box  with  the  Draytons.  You 
are  looking  in  the  parquet.  Do  you  not  see  the 
one  on  the  left,  who  seems  to  be  so  much  interested 
in  the  fate  of  Carmen  ?  " 

Edith  had  become  intensely  excited  during  the 
struggle  for  life  which  was  taking  place  at  that 
moment  between  the  faithless  Carmen  and  her 
forsaken  lover,  and  was  leaning  slightly  forward, 
with  her  eyes  fixed  on  the  stage. 

12 


178  A   CARPET  KNIGHT. 

"Oh,  yes,  I  see,"  said  Wilmott.  "You  mean 
Miss  Arnold.  She  is  a  friend  of  Miss  Prescott's 
from  New  York." 

"  Then  you  know  her  ? "  asked  Mrs.  Percy, 
catching  a  conscious  note  in  his  voice. 

"  I  have  met  her  several  times." 

Mrs.  Percy  looked  more  critically  at  the  eager 
young  face. 

"  Does  she  look  as  pretty  as  that  always  ?  "  she 
asked.  "  I  should  hardly  think  so." 

Wilmott  smiled.  "  Ah  !  that  I  cannot  say,"  he 
replied,  "  I  can  only  answer  for  the  occasions 
when  I  have  seen  her." 


CHAPTER  XV. 

"  Guil.    Good  my  lord,  vouchsafe  me  a  word  with  you. 
Ham.     Sir,  a  whole  history." 


JULIA  was  engaged  in  making  tea,  a  day  or  two 
later,  and  Miss  Ruthven  in  making  a  pocket  pin- 
cushion, when  Edith  entered,  all  in  a  glow  from 
walking  in  the  clear,  cold  air  of  a  January  after- 
noon. 

"  How  did  you  get  on,  when  I  left  you  ?  You 
had  no  trouble  in  finding  your  way  home,  dear  ?  " 
asked  Julia. 

"  None  whatever.     Mr.  Wilmott  came  with  me." 

"Oh!    I  see." 

"Will  you  not  give  me  a  cup  of  tea,  Julia?" 
asked  Edith,  with  a  perceptible  deepening  of  the 
roses  in  her  cheeks. 

Old  Rogers  appeared  at  this  moment  to  an- 
nounce a  friend  of  Miss  Ruthven's,  who  was  wait- 
ing to  see  her  in  the  library. 

"  Come  now,  Edith,"  said  Julia,  when  they  were 
alone.  "  Confess  that  Cecil  Wilmott  improved  the 
occasion  by  asking  you  to  walk  with  him." 

Edith  laughed. 

"  We  walked  a  few  squares  farther  than  the 
house,  but  not  far.  Was  it  a  wrong  thing  to  do  ?  " 
she  asked. 


180  A   CARPET  KNIGHT. 

"  Certainly  not." 

"  I  was  not  quite  sure  about  the  etiquette  of  the 
matter,"  said  Edith  shyly,  "  whether  it  was  the 
custom  to  walk  with  any  one  who  asked  you." 

"  People  are  very  apt  to  do  it  if  they  want  to," 
replied  Julia,  "  but  if  they  do  not,  it  never  seems 
to  them  the  right  thing  to  do." 

"  There  is  no  use  in  trying  to  talk  to  you  about 
anything  seriously,  I  suppose,"  said  Edith,  with 
resignation. 

"  Yes,  you  may  tell  me  seriously  what  you  think 
of  Cecil  Wilmott." 

Edith  was  silent  for  a  moment. 

"  If  I  knew,  myself,"  she  said,  after  a  pause,  "  I 
should  be  quite  willing  to  tell  you,  but  I  change 
my  mind  about  him  almost  every  time  I  see  him." 
She  glanced  at  Julia  over  the  top  of  her  tea-cup 
and  added  carelessly,  "  It  seems  to  me  that  Dr. 
Carey  admires  you  very  much,  and  that  you  are 
rather  hard  on  him." 

Miss  Prescott  quite  understood  that  this  was  a 
direct  attempt  to  carry  the  war  into  the  enemy's 
country.  The  device  was  so  innocent  that  it 
amused  her. 

"  I  do  not  know  whether  Dr.  Carey  admires  me 
or  not,"  she  said  coolly,  "but  I  know  that  I 
honestly  like  him." 

"  Then  why  do  you  behave  so  to  him  ?  " 

"  I  simply  behave  to  him  in  a  manner  calculated 
to  retain  his  regard.  You  know  I  am  not  naturally 
gushing." 


A   CARPET  KXICIIT.  181 

"No,  but  your  manner  is  usually  playful  and 
rather  responsive,  whereas  you  are  always  snub- 
bing Dr.  Carry." 

"  The  course  of  wise  repression  which  I  have 
pursued  with  Dr.  Carey  deserves  a  different  desig- 
nation," said  Julia  gravely. 

"  But  why  do  you  pursue  this  course  of  re- 
pression, as  you  call  it,  with  him  especially  ?  " 

"  Because  he  comes  from  Boston,"  replied  Julia, 
dropping  a  lump  of  sugar  into  Edith's  second  cup 
of  tea.  "  A  Boston  man,"  she  proceeded  solemnly, 
"  has  to  be  repressed.  If  you  give  him  the 
slightest  encouragement,  he  misunderstands  it." 

"  What !  "  exclaimed  Edith,  opening  her  large 
blue  eyes.  "  Do  they  advance  too  rapidly  ?  " 

"  Mercy  no !  "  exclaimed  Miss  Prescott  in  her 
impatience  ;  "  they  recede." 

"  Oh  !  "  said  Edith,  "  I  understand.  Of  course 
that  is  very  disagreeable." 

"  Of  course,"  returned  Julia,  "  one  does  not  wish 
for  the  attention  of  a  man  unless  he  desires  to  be- 
stow it,  but  it  is  very  disagreeable,  as  you  naively 
remark,  to  perceive  from  his  manner  that  he  thinks 
you  are  paying  attention  to  him." 

A  luncheon  at  which  ladies  only  should  be  pres- 
ent being  considered  "  the  thing  "  in  the  way  of 
an  entertainment  by  Miss  Charlotte  Wilmott,  she 
was  much  pleased  with  the  idea  of  giving  one  to 
Miss  Arnold,  and  it  would  have  been  difficult  to 
imagine  a  more  interested  and  excited  person  than 
Mrs.  Wilmott  on  the  morning  after  the  conversa- 


182  A   CARPET  KNIGHT. 

tion  last  recorded.  Not  the  Earl  of  Leicester,  when 
he  was  to  be  honored  with  the  sojourn  of  Queen 
Elizabeth  at  Kenilworth,  not  Caleb  Balderstone, 
when  occupied  in  concealing  his  master's  poverty 
from  the  retainers  of  Sir  William  Ashton,  were 
more  impressed  with  the  importance  of  the  occa- 
sion or  more  determined  to  spare  no  pains  to  make 
the  most  of  their  advantages ;  and  no  one  who  saw 
the  elegant  little  repast  to  which  the  ladies  sat 
down  a  few  hours  later  would  have  imagined  the 
anxiety  it  had  caused  the  smiling  hostess. 

Cecil  Wilmott  had  been  urged  by  his  sister  to 
tear  himself  away  from  the  professional  cares  which 
beset  him  at  his  office  at  the  early  hour  of  four,  in 
order  to  escort  the  three  younger  ladies  of  the  party 
to  the  State  House,  and  thence  on  a  round  of 
sight-seeing,  with  which  Cecil  declared  that  he 
should  be  intensely  bored,  but  still  yielded  to  her 
persistence,  and  they  had  just  taken  coffee  after 
luncheon,  when  he  appeared  with  Philip  Drayton. 

On  the  way  to  Independence  Hall,  Cecil  walked 
with  Julia,  while  Edith  followed  with  his  sister,  ac- 
companied by  Philip.  As  soon  as  they  were  fairly 
out  of  earshot  of  the  others,  Julia  said,  "  You  sug- 
gested that  I  should  wait  until  to-day,  Cecil,  to  say 
what  I  had  to  say  to  you,  and  I  think  I  had  better 
say  it  now." 

"  As  you  please,"  replied  Cecil,  tapping  the  pave- 
ment with  his  cane  in  a  slightly  irritated  manner, 
"  that  is  if  you  are  quite  sure  that  you  had  better 
say  it  at  all." 


A   CARPET  KNIGHT.  183 

"  Oh  !  I  am  quite  clear  on  that  point,"  said  Julia, 
quietly,  "  and  all  the  more  so  that  1  fancy  I  can 
by  your  manner  that  you  know  what  I  want  to 
speak  about." 

"  It  would  be  as  well  to  tell  me,  at  any  rate," 
returned  Cecil. 

"  It  is  of  Edith,"  said  Miss  Prescott,  dropping 
her  voice  and  her  eyes  for  a  moment.  "  Was  that 
what  you  thought  ?  " 

"It  does  not  much  matter  what  I  thought,"  said 
Wilmott.  "  What  is  it  that  you  think  ?  " 

"  I  think  it  not  at  all  safe  for  your  peace  of  mind 
or  hers,  that  you  should  pay  her  such  marked  at- 
tention." 

"  I  do  not  think  I  have  paid  her  any  marked  at- 
tention." 

"  Not  marked,  perhaps,  in  the  sense  of  being 
very  noticeable  before  the  world,  but  decidedly  ac- 
cented to  any  one  near  enough  like  myself  to  notice 
the  emphasis,"  said  Julia. 

"  I  think  you  are  rather  inclined  to  exaggerate," 
responded  Wilmott,  with  a  suppressed  smile. 

"  You  have  not  thought  so  before,  Cecil,  —  only 
that  I  saw  things  as  they  were.  Have  you  not  often 
told  me  that  I  pointed  out  something  in  you  before 
you  had  recognized  it  in  yourself?  " 

"Yes,"  said  Wihnott. 

"  And  has  it  not  usually  been  some  folly  which 
you  were  on  the  point  of  committing  ?  " 

"  I  believe  it  has." 

"  Now,  Cecil,  in  this  case  it  is  not  for  you  alone, 


184  A   CARPET  KNIGHT. 

that  I  speak,  but  for  my  friend.  She  has  a  formed 
manner  and  a  natural  power  of  self-control  which 
are  deceptive,  but  she  is  very  young  and  quite  a 
child  in  experience." 

"  I  know  that." 

"  Yes,  but  you  do  not  know,  or  do  not  stop  to 
think,  how  much  responsibility  I  feel  about  her." 

"  I  don't  see  what  I  have  to  do  with  it,"  said 
Cecil. 

"  Her  mother  and  sister,  for  her  sake,"  continued 
Julia  seriously,  "  befriended  me  when  I  was  most 
in  need  of  friends,  and  now  they  have  trusted  her 
to  me,  and  I  cannot  see  her  happiness  endangered 
without  trying  to  save  it  from  mishap." 

"  Pray,  what  mishap  do  you  fear  ?  "  asked  Wil- 
mott,  with  heightened  color. 

"  I  hardly  know,"  she  answered,  faltering  a  little 
for  the  first  time  since  the  beginning  of  the  conver- 
sation. 

"  I  do  not,  I  'm  sure." 

"  Yes  you  do,"  cried  Julia.  "  We  both  know. 
It  is  false  delicacy  to  pretend  that  we  do  not.  There 
can  be  no  doubt  that  it  would  be  an  unmixed  mis- 
fortune for  Edith  if  you  should  succeed  in  making 
her  like  you  —  better  than  other  people." 

"  Why  do  you  assume  that  I  am  trying  to  make 
her  like  me  better  than  other  people  ?  " 

"  Because  I  can  see  that  you  have  quite  lost  your 
head  about  her." 

"  But  if  I  keep  my  heart  ?  "  asked  Cecil  laugh- 
ing, "  is  not  that  the  important  matter?  " 


A    CARPET  KM <, Hi.  185 

"  I  am  not  troubled  about  that,"  replied  Julia. 
"  My  experience  is  that  you  are  much  more  apt  to 
lose  your  head  than  your  heart." 

"  Is  it  Miss  Arnold's  head  that  you  are  troubled 
about  then  ?  If  you  will  excuse  the  slang  I  will 
confess  that  it  seems  to  me  to  be  a  remarkably 
level  one." 

"  So  it  is,"  said  Julia  proudly ;  "  it  is  as  clever 
a  little  head  as  one  often  meets,  and  I  cannot  help 
feeling  as  if  I  were  doing  something  disloyal  in  dar- 
ing to  question  its  decisions,  but  I  should  never 
forgive  myself  if  I  let  things  go  on  without  trying 
to  stop  them." 

"  Do  you  mean  that  you  think  that  she  —  that 
she  might  care  ?  "  asked  Wilmott,  with  a  kind  of 
gasp. 

"  I  do  not  know,"  said  Julia  quietly.  "  I  fear  lest 
she  might  care,  and  that  would  cause  much  misery." 

"  If  she  cared  for  me,  I  should  care  for  her," 
said  Cecil,  in  a  very  low  tone. 

"  Oh  !  Cecil,  and  if  you  did  what  good  could 
come  of  it  ?  What  but  misery  for  both  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  answered  Wilmott,  "  that  it  is 
worth  while  to  consider  so  curiously  in  advance." 

"  That  is  exactly  what  it  is  worth  while  to  do," 
said  Julia  earnestly.  "  I  want  you  to  consider  her 
circumstances  and  yours  before  it  is  too  late.  Re- 
member what  you  owe  to  your  mother  and  sister  — 
and  —  and  Cecil,  do  not  be  angry  with  me  for  re- 
minding you  that  this  is  not  the  first  time  that  you 
have  believed  that  you  might  care  for  some  one." 


186  A   CARPET  KNIGHT. 

"  How  do  you  know  that  ?  " 

"  I  know  more.  I  know  that  at  this  very  mo- 
ment there  is  another  woman  who  "  — 

"  Stop  Julia !  "  interrupted  Cecil  sharply. 

"  I  knew  you  would  tell  me  that  I  had  no  right 
to  speak  of  it." 

"  I  think  you  are  not  inclined  to  curtail  your 
right." 

"  I  have  done  now.  I  am  so  much  in  earnest  that 
I  thank  you  for  letting  me  speak  as  I  have.  You 
don't  know  how  I  love  my  little  friend." 

"  Yes  I  do,"  said  Cecil,  and  he  stretched  out  his 
hand  and  took  Julia's  and  then  turned  away,  leav- 
ing her  in  front  of  the  State  House,  which  they 
had  just  reached.  She  saw  him  stand  for  a  mo- 
ment looking  up  at  the  statue  of  Washington,  then 
he  entered  the  building,  and  was  lost  to  view. 

"  I  think  1  did  right,"  she  said  to  herself,  "but 
it  was  very  hard  to  do." 

At  that  moment,  Edith  and  Charlotte  Wilmott 
came  up,  with  Philip. 

"  What  has  become  of  Cecil  ?  "  asked  Charlotte. 
"  I  saw  him  take  the  most  touching  farewell  of 
you.  One  would  have  thought  you  had  parted  for 
life." 

"  One  would  have  been  mistaken,"  replied  Julia 
lightly,  "  for  here  comes  your  brother  with  Dr.  Ca- 
rey; I  suppose  he  went  to  find  him." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  remember  Cecil  did  suggest  that  Dr. 
Carey  should  meet  us  here,"  responded  Charlotte. 

"  It  was  I  who  asked  if  he  might  be  included  in 


A    CARPKT   KMi.ll  i:  187 

your  party.  Charlotte,"  said  Philip,  "as  he  had 
never  been  properly  put  through  the  sights." 

"  I  don't  wonder  you  felt  a  twinge  of  conscience 
when  he  has  stayed  with  you  so  often,"  remarked 
Charlotte. 

"As  for  that  matter,"  said  Julia,  "I  don't  be- 
lli-ve  that  Edith  would  have  been  made  to  do  half 
of  IHT  duty  as  a  stranger  in  Philadelphia  if  you 
hud  not  taken  her  in  hand,  Charlotte.  Philip  and 
I  make  very  poor  hosts.  We  are  inclined  to  let  our 
guests  do  as  they  please,  which  is  the  most  un- 
principled thing  in  the  world." 

"  I  certainly  think  that  any  one  returning  from 
here,  would  regret  not  having  seen  Independence 
Hall,"  said  Charlotte  stiffly. 

"  Why  of  course  I  should  regret  not  seeing  it," 
cried  Edith.  "  I  ana  so  much  obliged  to  you  for 
bringing  me  here." 

Nevertheless,  she  was  conscious  of  a  certain  vague 
feeling  of  disappointment  when  they  entered  the 
square,  white-plastered  room,  in  which  she  was  told 
that  the  Declaration  had  been  signed.  She  began 
to  realize  that  in  hearing  of  Independence  Hall  she 
must  have  imagined  something  like  the  hall  of  a 
baronial  castle, — not  that  she  had  ever  seen  such 
a  thing,  but  she  had  seen  pictures  of  dim,  lofty 
chambers,  with  carved  ceilings  and  massive  walls 
which  were  suggested  by  the  name,  and  now  they 
all  vanished  in  the  broad  sunlight  which  streamed 
through  the  half -drawn  faded  curtains  of  the  wide 
windows  and  lay  on  the  tiled  floor  of  the  cheerful 


188  A   CARPET  KNIGHT. 

apartment  in  which  she  stood.  She  gazed  with 
some  dismay  at  the  ring  of  stiff-looking  armchairs, 
with  covers  of  various  materials,  among  which 
leather  and  horsehair  predominated,  and  read  with 
bewilderment  the  placards  placed  on  the  seats  of 
some  of  them  proclaiming  in  large  letters  that  they 
had  been  restored  to  their  original  position  by  this 
or  that  family  of  distinction.  Some  of  these  fami- 
lies were  so  munificent  as  to  have  re-covered  their 
chair.  She  was  interested  in  the  portraits  of  the 
various  signers  which  were  ranged  overhead,  al- 
though it  occurred  to  her  that  the  artists  might  have 
been  more  liberal  with  their  canvas. 

"  You  forget  that  it  was  an  economical  age,"  said 
Philip,  with  a  grim  smile. 

"  Do  look  at  this  mosaic,  presented  in  memory 
of  the  Centennial!  "  exclaimed  Miss  Wilmott  en- 
thusiastically, pausing  before  a  massive  picture  in  an 
ebony  frame,  representing  Washington,  or  rather 
misrepresenting  him,  like  so  many  of  the  worthy 
General's  portraits. 

"  Is  it  not  beautiful  ?  "  cried  Charlotte.  "  It  is  a 
gift  of  the  Italian  government." 

"  It  is  very  elaborate,"  said  Edith,  to  whom  she 
seemed  to  look  for  a  reply. 

"  Elaborate !  I  should  think  it  was.  Just  think 
of  the  time  it  must  have  taken  to  make  it,  and  what 
it  must  have  cost." 

Philip  laughed.  "  I  am  afraid  that  is  the  prin- 
cipal thing  one  does  think  of  in  looking  at  it,"  he 
said. 


A   CARPET  KM  <;IIT.  189 

"  Very  true,"  responded  Cecil,  "  and  as  one 
should  not  look  a  gift  horse  in  the  mouth,  we  had 
better  pass  on." 

Dr.  Carey,  who  was  talking  to  Julia,  now  led  the 
way  into  the  room  opposite,  which  contained  quite 
an  interesting  collection  of  curiosities  and  relics. 
There  they  remained  for  some  time  examining  the 
vestiges  of  a  highly  respectable  but  much  dilapi- 
dated past. 

Philip  found  Edith  in  front  of  a  glass  case,  con- 
taining an  enormous  silver-laced  waistcoat  ticketed 
as  having  been  worn  at  the  Republican  Court  and 
one  would  say  at  many  a  patriotic  feast,  exhibited 
side  by  side  with  the  baby-clothes  made  for  John 
Quinry  Adams  by  Mrs.  John  Adams  his  illustrious 
iiKimiiKu  the  tiniest  things  imaginable.  She  could 
not  help  smiling  at  the  contrast. 

"  What  do  you  think  of  all  this  ?  "  asked  Philip. 

"  I  like  it.  I  feel  as  if  I  were  bagBUUBg  to  catch 
the  spirit  of  the  place." 

"  So  am  I,"  said  Philip.  "  I  have  been  wonder- 
ing whether  the  Republican  simplicity  and  quaint 
sincerity  of  our  forefathers,  which  it  is  so  easy  to 
ridicule,  may  not  have  been  a  necessary  medium  for 
reducing  liberty  from  an  ideal  to  a  practical  experi- 
ment." 

"  I  think  it  must  have  been,"  she  answered 
eagerly,  "  for  I  was  struggling  with  such  a  fancy, 
too,  but  I  should  not  have  known  how  to  express 
it  as  well  as  that." 

Philip  smiled.     "  You  always  know  how  to  say 


190  A    CARPET  KNIGHT. 

something  kind,"  he  responded,  with  a  pleased  light 
in  his  eyes. 

"  Do  come  and  look  at  this  absurd  little  wooden 
image  of  the  Marquis  de  Lafayette,  Philip ! "  ex- 
claimed Julia,  and  he  turned  to  where  she  stood 
just  as  Cecil  approached. 

"Would  you  like  to  see  the  cracked  bell,"  he 
asked,  "  which  rang  in  independence  ?  " 

Edith  assented,  and  followed  him  from  the  room, 
across  the  hall,  and  up  the  staircase,  to  where  the 
huge  bronze  bell  hung,  silent  and  solemn,  beneath 
the  steeple  of  the  State  House. 

"  How  did  it  get  up  there  ?  "  she  asked,  tipping 
back  her  head  to  look  at  it,  with  a  wondering  ex- 
pression, like  a  child. 

"  It  is  not  known,"  said  Wilmott.  "  For  a  long 
while  it  was  displayed  to  visitors  in  a  sort  of 
wooden  cage,  formed  of  the  original  beams  and 
timbers  on  which  it  had  once  swung  so  freely  when 
on  duty  in  the  steeple." 

"  Perhaps,  being  cracked,  the  people  were  afraid 
it  might  do  something  desperate,"  suggested  Edith. 

"  It  may  have  been  something  of  that  sort,"  re- 
plied Cecil,  "  and  perhaps  it  was  the  bell  itself 
which  burst  through  these  restraints  and  flew  up 
here.  All  I  know  is  that  one  fine  day,  at  about  the 
beginning  of  the  centennial  year,  I  saw  it  hanging 
where  you  see  it  now." 

"  You  are  an  excellent  ciceroni ;  "  said  Edith, 
"  you  seem  quite  fertile  in  invention."  She  turned 
to  him  gayly  as  she  spoke,  and  was  surprised  at 


A   CARPET  KXltHIT.  191 

the  grave  expression  of  his  face.  It  was  so  out  of 
keeping  with  the  easy,  light  tone  in  which  he  had 
been  speaking.  "  Are  you  not  feeling  well  ?  "  she 
asked  impulsively. 

"Very  well  indeed,  thank  you,"  he  answered 
coldly. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  she  returned  in  an  equally 
distant  manner.  "  I  thought  you  looked  unusually 
grave." 

"  I  feel  grave,"  he  said,  in  a  weary  way,  unlike 
his  usual  one,  kk  but  I  am  not  ill.  I  almost  wish  I 
were." 

She  would  not  question  him  again,  and  they  de- 
scended the  steps  in  silence. 

"  Come  and  look  at  the  square,"  Philip  proposed, 
joining  them  with  Charlotte. 

They  all  stepped  out  on  the  sunny  expanse  of 
Independence  Square,  and  from  here  Edith  thought 
the  view  of  the  State  House  was  much  more  im- 
pressive than  from  the  other  side.  Dr.  Lawrence 
Carey  was  delighted  with  it.  He  said  there  was  a 
great  deal  of  "  tone  "  in  the  old  bricks,  but  Edith 
caught  very  few  of  his  remarks,  as  they  were  di- 
rected almost  entirely  to  Jiilia. 

She  grew  dispirited  herself.  Somehow  the  life 
had  gone  out  of  her  enjoyment,  and  she  kept  with 
Philip  and  Charlotte,  who  talked  together  very 
pleasantly,  only  interrupted  by  an  occasional  re- 
mark from  Cecil.  After  all,  but  a  few  of  the  sights 
planned  for  her  benefit  were  seen,  and  yet,  at  the 
end  of  the  day,  she  felt  depressed  and  over-tired. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

"  A  child  of  our  grandmother  Eve,  a  female ; 
Or,  for  thy  more  sweet  understanding,  a  woman." 

SHAKESPEABB. 

THEY  did  not  see  Wilmott  again  for  several 
days.  There  were  one  or  two  small  parties  to 
which  Edith  refused  to  go  on  the  plea  of  a  "  head- 
ache "  and  being  "  tired."  Julia  was  surprised 
and  puzzled,  but  tried,  without  success,  to  change 
her  friend's  decision.  Edith  had  her  way  and 
stayed  at  home,  talking  to  Miss  Ruthven,  who  was 
initiating  her  into  the  mysteries  of  a  new  stitch,  or 
listening  to  Mr.  Drayton,  who  was  fond  of  reading 
aloud,  and  could  thus  entertain  them  both. 

There  was  a  weary  look  in  her  blue  eyes  at  times, 
and  a  perplexed  sadness  in  her  face,  as  though  re- 
gretfully admitting  a  fact  to  her  consciousness  of 
the  existence  of  which  she  had  not  dreamed;  but 
Julia,  who  was  very  busy  just  then  with  her  own 
affairs,  did  not  see  the  look,  and  so  could  not  inter- 
pret it.  Everywhere  that  Miss  Prescott  went  she 
met  Dr.  Carey,  and  she  was  beginning  to  realize 
that  there  was  something  in  his  manner  a  little  dif- 
ferent from  what  there  formerly  had  been.  Peo- 
ple wondered  that  he  was  making  quite  so  long  a 
visit  to  Philadelphia,  and  the  care  of  Mr.  Hazzard, 


A   CARPET  KNIGHT.  193 

who  was  now  able  to  get  about  by  means  of  a 
.crutch,  did  not  seem  quite  a  sufficient  retaining 
cause. 

"  I  imagine  he  is  staying  for  the  Assembly.  I 
think  Philip  said  he  had  not  been  to  one  in  Phila- 
delphia," said  Julia,  in  answer  to  a  question  from 
Mrs.  Davering  as  to  what  she  "  thought "  of  the 
matter. 

Mrs.  Davering,  indeed,  was  much  disturbed  by 
Dr.  Carey's  lengthened  stay,  but  her  sense  of  pro- 
priety as  a  hostess,  and  fear  that  the  cause  of  her 
annoyance  might  be  suspected,  prevented  her  from 
expressing  herself  freely  on  the  subject  even  in 
confidence. 

As  for  Charley,  he  was,  as  usual,  fighting  against 
his  own  interests  with  a  blindness  which  was  quite 
incomprehensible  to  his  politic  mother.  He  felt 
sincerely  attached  to  Dr.  Carey,  and  grateful  to 
him,  in  his  off-hand  way,  for  the  care  he  had  taken 
of  him,  and  would  urge  him  to  stay  from  day  to 
day,  —  now  for  this  thing,  now  for  that,  —  so  that 
his  blustering  cordiality  quite  drowned  any  lack  of 
heartiness  which  Mrs.  Davering  may  have  shown 
in  seconding  the  invitation.  Besides,  there  was  one 
point  on  which  she  did  show  equal  eagerness  of 
insistence.  She  would  not  hear  of  Dr.  Carey's  ac- 
cepting Philip's  invitation  to  make  him  a  visit,  and 
going  from  her  house  to  Mr.  Drayton's,  any  more 
than  Charley  would.  It  was  bad  enough  to  have 
him  in  the  same  city  with  Julia,  she  thought,  but 
it  would  be  worse  to  have  him  under  the  same  roof. 

13 


194  A    CARPET  KNIGHT. 

Poor  Mrs.  Davering  had  to  keep  all  her  discon- 
tent to  herself  therefore,  but  on  the  occasion  just 
referred  to  she  ventured  a  question  to  Julia,  by 
way  of  sounding  that  impenetrable  young  person, 
and  also  under  the  painful  conviction  that  she  was 
apt  to  know  more  of  Dr.  Carey's  plans  and  motives 
than  most  people. 

They  had  met  in  the  supper-room  at  a  little 
party  at  Mrs.  Percy's.  It  was  a  very  small  affair, 
such  as  she  was  fond  of  giving,  only  ten  or  fifteen 
ladies,  and  the  larger  proportion  of  gentlemen, 
which  was  always  noticeable  at  Mrs.  Percy's  enter- 
tainments. 

"  I  suppose,  of  course,  then,  that  he  is  to  dance 
the  cotillon  with  you,"  said  Mrs.  Davering,  by 
way  of  rejoinder  to  Julia's  supposition  that  Dr. 
Carey  was  staying  for  the  Assembly. 

"I  do  not* know  that  it  is  quite  a  matter  of 
course,"  replied  Julia  carelessly,  "  but  he  is,  and  I 
am  glad,  for  I  think  him  an  agreeable  partner." 

"  It  is  hard  for  Charley  that  he  cannot  hope  to 
use  his  feet  in  that  way  again  this  winter,"  said  his 
mother.  "  He  is  so  fond  of  dancing  !  " 

"  Yes,  and  he  dances  so  well,"  responded  Julia, 
who,  though  far  from  guessing  all  Mrs.  Davering's 
secrets,  knew  how  dearly  she  loved  to  hear  her  first- 
born praised,  and  had  besides  an  honest  liking  for 
the  simple-hearted  fellow. 

"  He  is  here  to-night,  you  know,"  said  the  older 
lady,  with  a  smile,  "  and  he  is  to  take  tne  to  the 
Assembly.  You  must  not  forget  to  meet  me  in  the 


A   CARPET  KNIGHT.  195 

dressing-room,  you  and  Miss  Arnold,  at  ten  o'clock. 
By  the  bye,  why  is  not  your  little  friend  here  this 
evening?  " 

"  I  do  not  know.  I  did  my  best  to  persuade  her 
to  come,"  said  Julia,  "  but  she  would  not,  although 
Mrs.  Percy  very  courteously  inclosed  a  card  and  a 
special  invitation ;  she  says  she  is  waiting  for  the 
Assembly." 

"  Mr.  Drayton  does  not  seeiu  to  be  here  this 
evening,  either.  Is  he  also  waiting  for  the  Assem- 
bly?" 

"  I  fancy  so,"  answered  Julia  laughing.  "  He 
has  been  rather  lazy  since  his  accident,  and  looked 
very  comfortable  when  I  left  him,  in  his  arm-chair, 
in  the  library.  Philip  was  the  only  person  whom 
I  could  induce  to  come  with  me." 

"  I  suppose  you  left  Miss  Arnold  in  the  library, 
too?" 

"  Yes.  Edith  and  Miss  Ruthven  were  both  there. 
They  are  getting  to  be  great  cronies." 

"Some  one  else  is  getting  to  be  a  great  crony 
of  Miss  Arnold,  it  seems." 

"  Who  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Why,  Mr.  Drayton.  Do  you  not  think  he 
is?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Julia,  opening  her  eyes  a  little. 
"  He  likes  Edith  very  much,  I  think." 

"I  never  should  have  expected  it,"  exclaimed 
Mrs.  Davering.  "  If  any  one  had  asked  me  I 
should  have  said  it  was  the  most  unlikely  thing 
in  the  world  !  " 


196  A  CARPET  KNIGHT. 

"  I  do  not  see  why  any  one  should  not  like 
Edith,"  said  Julia. 

"  Oh !  of  course,  she  is  a  very  nice  girl,  but  I 
should  have  thought  him  so  much  more  likely  to 
fancy  a  person  of  a  different  style.  Some  one 
older,  and  "  — 

"  And  what  ?  "  asked  Julia  haughtily. 

"  And  —  well  —  to  be  frank  with  you,  rather 
cleverer,  but  there  is  no  accounting  for  tastes. 
The  times  are  certainly  changed  when  such  a  so- 
ciety man  as  your  guardian  will  let  you  go  with 
Philip  to  a  party  and  spend  the  evening  quietly  at 
home." 

"  It  is  not  a  subject  which  I  care  to  discuss,"  said 
Julia ;  "  but  although  my  guardian  has  had  some 
social  duties  to  perform  which  have  encroached 
upon  his  evenings,  I  can  truly  say  that  he  has 
passed  a  part  of  every  one,  which  he  could  pass, 
at  home  for  many  years,  and  I  believe  happily." 

"  Quite  right,  quite  right,  my  dear.  I  am  sure 
that  he  has  done  his  duty  by  you  very  thoroughly, 
and  it  is  natural  that  you  should  not  fancy  the  idea 
of  any  change,  but  changes  will  come,  as  Mr.  Dray- 
ton  said  himself  to  me  the  other  evening." 

"  What  did  Mr.  Drayton  say  ?  " 

"  Why  we  had  been  talking  of  you,  and  he  said 
that  of  course  his  life  could  not  go  on  forever  as  it 
was  going  now." 

"  He  said  that  ?  " 

"  Words  to  that  effect.  He  certainly  spoke  of 
himself  in  connection  with  the  idea  of  Doming 


A   CARPET  KMHII  r  197 

change,  and  I  associated  the  remark,  not  unreason- 
ably, with  the  possibility  of  his  marrying  again." 

"  Such  an  association  may  not  seem  unreason- 
able to  you,"  retorted  Julia,  with  flashing  eyes, 
"but  to  me  it  seems  very  disrespectful." 

Mrs.  Davering  looked  at  her  pityingly. 

"  It  is  foolish  to  get  so  excited  about  it,  Julia," 
she  said,  "  for  it  is  certainly  well  to  face  the  possi- 
bility. Of  course  it  would  be  disagreeable  for 
you  if  your  guardian  were  to  marry  at  any  time," 
she  continued,  in  a  patronizing  tone  which  was  par- 
ticularly galling.  "  More  so  for  you,  I  think,  than 
for  Philip,  because  your  position  in  the  household 
would  be  so  much  altered  ;  but  if  he  could  have 
chosen  a  suitable  person,  of  a  proper  age,  I  cannot 
say  that  the  step  might  not  have  had  its  advanta- 
geous side  in  affording  you  a  protection  which  you 
have  never  had." 

"  Mrs.  Davering,"  replied  Julia,  rising  from  her 
seat,  "  you  have  said  much  more  than  I  should 
have  allowed  any  one  else  to  say,  but  even  old 
friendship  does  not  give  the  liberty  you  are  tak- 
ing." 

Decidedly  the  victory  was  not  with  Mrs.  Daver- 
ing, in  spite  of  her  well-turned  phrases.  As  she 
saw  Miss  Prescott  leave  the  supper  room  on  the 
arm  of  Dr.  Lawrence  Carey,  she  experienced  a 
twinge  of  regret  most  uncommon  with  her,  for  she 
feared  that  she  had  gone  too  far  in  the  very  direc- 
tion in  which  she  intended  not  to  go.  What  if 
the  girl  should  not  only  resent  her  interference,  as 


198  A    CARPET  KNIGHT. 

it  was  evident  she  did,  but  believing  all  that  she 
pretended  to  discredit,  should  be  stung  by  the  idea 
into  accepting  the  wrong  man?  It  never  occurred 
to  Mrs.  Davering  that  Julia  could  be  in  earnest  in 
disavowing  the  bare  possibility  of  her  guardian's 
thinking  of  marriage,  for  Algernon  Drayton  was  a 
man  so  young  for  his  years,  and  so  attractive  to 
women,  that  she  had  heard  such  a  chance  discussed 
again  and  again,  and  it  seemed  absurd  to  her  to 
be  asked  to  believe  that  it  had  never  entered  the 
mind  of  so  acute  and  intelligent  a  person  as  Miss 
Prescott. 

"  It  was  all  very  fine,"  she  said  to  herself,  "  to 
get  so  indignant  with  me,  but  it  was  done  for  effect, 
of  course.  She  knows  as  well  as  I  do,  that  many 
and  many  a  cap  has  been  set  to  catch  him,  and  it 
is  a  wonder  he  has  not  been  caught  before." 

Julia  meanwhile  was  floating  away  on  Dr. 
Carey's  arm  to  the  dreamy  music  of  a  waltz. 

"  What  a  very  handsome  girl  Miss  Prescott  is !  " 
exclaimed  Charley  Hazzard  admiringly  to  Cecil 
Wilmott,  who  had  just  come  in  and  was  looking 
rather  cross. 

"  Yes,"  said  Cecil,  following  the  direction  of  his 
eyes,  "  she  is  very  handsome,  if  one  admires  that 
style." 

"  I  do  not  see  how  any  one  can  help  admiring 
it,"  said  Mr.  Hazzard. 

"  I  know  you  do  not,"  replied  Cecil,  for  it  was 
well  known  among  his  friends  how  "  hopelessly 
gone  "  —  as  he  himself  expressed  it  —  Mr.  Haz- 


i/,7'/:r  KM (Uir.  199 

zard  had  been  with  regard  to  Miss  Prescott  for 
several  years. 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  you  about  again,  old  fellow," 
Cecil  added  kindly.  "  How  is  your  ankle  ?  —  bet- 
ter?" 

"  Oh,  my  ankle  is  all  right,"  said  Mr.  Hazzard, 
"  if  Carey  would  only  take  this  confounded  plaster 
dressing  off.  You  have  no  idea  how  uncomfortable 
it  makes  a  fellow." 

"  I  rather  think  Carey  knows  what  he  is  about," 
said  Cecil.  "  You  would  probably  be  worse  off 
without  it.  There  is  Mrs.  Davering,  I  must  go 
and  speak  to  her." 

Cecil  liked  to  win  his  reputation  for  good  na- 
ture easily.  It  cost  very  little  to  ask  after  a  friend, 
but  to  listen  to  his  complaints  was  a  more  serious 
matter,  and  he  saw  no  reason  why  he  should  be 
bored  with  those  of  this  stalwart  young  fellow,  whose 
present  position  represented  the  height  of  worldly 
prosperity,  whatever  the  future  might  have  in  store 
for  him  in  the  way  of  reverses.  He  had  a  rich 
mother  to  surround  him  with  every  luxury,  a  rich 
stepfather  to  indulge  his  every  taste,  a  beautiful 
country  seat  to  spend  his  summers  in,  the  hand- 
somest of  city  homes  in  which  to  entertain  his 
friends,  and  a  yearly  allowance  with  which  to  sat- 
isfy his  every  whim,  while  with  Cecil  things  were 
different.  In  spite  of  the  anxious  effort  at  home 
to  save  him  from  the  groveling  cares  which  beset 
the  women  of  his  family,  he  often  felt  the  need  of 
money,  and  realized  without  acknowledging  it,  the 


200  A   CARPET  KNIGHT. 

inconsistency  of  this  sensation  with  the  butterfly 
life  which  he  chose  to  lead ;  for  it  took  all  his  in- 
genuity to  dress  himself  in  the  latest  fashion,  to 
frequent  the  most  elegant  club,  to  provide  himself 
with  cigars  and  his  lady  friends  with  bouquets,  and 
yet  avoid  contracting  bills  which  he  could  not  pay. 
That  he  did  not  contract  bills  was  somewhat  to  his 
credit.  He  certainly  did  not,  but  in  the  constant 
effort  to  live  as  others  did  on  twice  the  money,  he 
expended  energy  worthy  of  a  better  cause.  He 
knew,  in  fact,  that  it  was  his  duty  to  have  turned 
this  energy  to  the  support  of  his  mother  and  sister, 
for  whom  he  was  bound  to  work,  and  yet  he  hated 
work,  and  whenever  he  thought  of  it  all  the  zeal 
with  which  he  was  always  ready  to  throw  himself 
into  any  scheme  for  pleasure  or  diversion  seemed 
to  leave  him  entirely.  He  was  thinking  of  it  a 
great  deal  to-night,  which  was  one  reason  for  his 
dullness  of  mood. 

Cecil  turned  away,  and  Mr.  Hazzard,  who  was 
left  leaning  by  himself  across  the  doorway,  looked 
again  for  the  cynosure  of  his  eyes,  but  she  had 
vanished.  Only  the  pretty  Miss  Davering  was  to 
be  seen,  dancing  with  Mr.  Drum  Kettleby.  He 
took  refuge  with  his  hostess,  who  invited  him  to 
accompany  her  to  a  small  room  opening  from  the 
one  where  they  were  dancing,  in  search  of  claret 
punch.  Here  they  came  upon  Miss  Prescott,  rest- 
ing a  moment  apparently  from  the  fatigue  of  the 
waltz,  while  Dr.  Carey  stood  in  front  of  her  talk- 
ing very  earnestly. 


4  CARPET  K.\K;HT.  201 

Mr.  Hazzard  provided  Mrs.  Percy  with  some 
claret,  keeping  his  eye  all  the  time  on  the  couple 
at  the  other  side  of  the  room.  She  sat  down  on 
the  sofa  and  sipped  it  slowly,  and  just  then  Cecil 
Wilmott  came  to  speak  to  her. 

Cecil  had  been  flitting  about  everywhere,  like  an 
uneasy  spirit.  Mr.  Hazzard  took  advantage  of  his 
advent  to  desert  to  Julia's  side,  in  spite  of  the  dis- 
couraging expression  of  Dr.  Carey's  back. 

"Sit  down,  Mr.  Wilmott,"  said  Mrs.  Percy, 
"you  look  tired."  Her  tones  were  very  soft,  al- 
most caressing. 

He  yielded  silently. 

"  What  is  the  matter  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Oh,  nothing.  I  am  a  little  out  of  sorts,"  said 
Cecil. 

"  I  thought  you  were  not  feeling  well  the  other 
evening,"  rejoined  Mrs.  Percy.  "  Did  not  Char- 
lotte tell  me  that  you  had  been  sightseeing  or  some- 
thing of  the  kind,  much  against  your  will  ?  " 

"I  don't  know,"  answered  Cecil,  "what  Char- 
lotte said,  but  that  sort  of  thing  is  always  a  bore." 

"  Of  course  it  is,"  said  Mrs.  Percy,  with  a  posi- 
tive little  nod  of  her  head.  "  I  met  Charlotte  at 
Homer's  the  next  morning,  and  she  told  me  all 
about  it.  What  did  you  do  it  for  ?  " 

"  To  please  her." 

"  But  whom  did  you  take  to  see  the  sights  ?  " 

"  Dr.  Carey  for  one,  and  Miss  Prescott  and  her 
friend  Miss  Arnold,"  said  Cecil. 

"  Ah !  yes,  the  young  lady  whom  I  saw  at  the 


202  A   CARPET  KNIGHT. 

opera  last  week  ?  I  was  so  sorry  that  she  did  not 
come  this  evening.  I  wonder  why  it  was.  Do  you 
know  ?  " 

"  I  ?  Of  course  not.  How  should  I  ? "  an- 
swered Cecil  uneasily. 

"  Look  at  me,"  commanded  Mrs.  Percy  softly. 
He  turned  slowly  towards  her  as  though  compelled 
by  some  unseen  force,  until  he  met  her  beautiful 
dark  eyes.  They  seemed  to  be  burning  into  his. 

"You  are  a  foolish  fellow,"  she  said,  "to  try 
to  hide  your  fancies  from  me.  This  one  will 
pass." 

He  watched  her  red  lips  playing  over  her  white 
teeth,  as  she  spoke,  and  hardly  knew  what  she  was 
saying. 

"  I  think  I  will  go  away,"  he  said. 

"  When  ?  " 

"  After  the  Assembly." 

She  laughed.  "  You  will  '  treat '  your  resolu- 
tion." 

"  Am  I  not  engaged  to  dance  the  cotillon  with 
you?" 

"  Are  you  ?  I  had  forgotten  it." 

"  Have  you  promised  to  dance  with  any  one 
else?" 

"  No,  but  I  can,  you  know,  if  you  would  rather 
not  stay." 

"  I  would  much  rather  stay,  and  I  expect  you  to 
dance  with  me." 

A  ray  of  triumph  shot  from  her  eyes. 

"How  do  you  manage  it?  "  she  asked. 


A   CARPET  KNIGHT.  203 

"  Manage  what?  " 

"  Being  in  love  with  two  persons  at  the  same 
time." 

"  I  am  not  in  love  with  two  persons." 

"  Then  which  is  it?  "  She  was  still  looking  into 
his  eyes,  with  a  mocking  smile.  It  showed  all  the 
pretty  dimples  round  her  chin,  as  she  knew  full 
well. 

"  Ah  !  which  has  it  always  been  ?  "  cried  Cecil, 
just  above  his  breath. 

"  It  would  be  better  worth  while  to  ask  which  it 
is  to  be  ?  "  she  said. 

"  That  is  a  question  which  I  cannot  answer," 
returned  Cecil  pointedly. 

"  Can  /?"  asked  Mrs.  Percy. 

"  You  could  have  once,"  he  answered. 

"  Ah  !  "  she  exclaimed,  and  her  eyes  flashed. 

"  Decidedly  you  had  better  go  away,"  she  added 
in  a  moment,  rising  with  an  indifferent  air  to  re- 
turn to  her  other  guests,  and  Cecil  happening  to 
glance  across  the  room  noticed  that  Miss  Prescott 
was  looking  at  him.  It  was  an  abstracted  gaze,  but 
Cecil  did  not  know  it.  He  would  not  seem  to  avoid 
the  meeting,  although  he  was  in  no  mood  to  talk 
to  her  just  then,  and  so  strolled  over  to  where  she 
sat  surrounded  by  Dr.  Carey,  Mr.  Hazzard,  and 
Mr.  Foxall  who  had  lately  joined  the  group. 

"  Oh,  do  tell  me,  Miss  Prescott,"  Mr.  Hazzard 
was  saying,  "  what  have  you  done  with  that  pretty 
little  friend  of  yours  who  was  so  frightened  the 
other  day  by  Jig  ?  Is  she  still  staying  with  you  ? 


204  A   CARPET  KNIGHT. 

I  have  been  intending  to  come  to  see  you  again,  if 
you  will  allow  me  to  do  so." 

"  Do  come,  by  all  means,"  said  Julia.  "  Miss 
Arnold  is  still  with  me,  and  we  shall  be  delighted 
to  see  you." 

"  Why  did  she  not  come  to  the  party  this  even- 
ing ?  "  asked  Mr.  Hazzard. 

"  She  has  not  been  feeling  very  well.  I  am  afraid 
Jig  was  too  much  for  her." 

"  Seriously,  Miss  Prescott,"  said  Mr.  Foxall, 
"  why  did  you  not  bring  Miss  Arnold  with  you  ?  I 
have  been  looking  about  for  her  everywhere,  for 
she  promised  me  a  dance  the  next  time  we  met  at 
a  party." 

"  I  wanted  to  bring  her,  of  course,"  replied  Julia, 
"  but  she  would  not  come.  I  cannot  give  you  any 
better  reason  for  her  absence  than  that." 

"  Certainly  not,"  said  Dr.  Carey.  "  From  a  lady 
it  is  unanswerable." 

"  I  wonder  if  he  has  heard  that  dreadful  report," 
thought  Julia.  If  Cecil  had  known  how  her  brain 
was  in  a  whirl  of  strange  fancies,  and  new  ideas, 
and  she  was  wearied  with  the  effort  to  conceal  her 
troubled  mind,  he  would  not  have  feared  her  so 
much.  As  it  was,  it  was  the  greatest  relief  when 
she  turned  to  him  with  her  usual  friendly  smile. 
"  I  am  glad  to  see  you,  Cecil,"  she  said,  "  for  I  am 
sure  it  is  time  to  go  home.  Will  you  not  see  if  you 
can  find  Philip,  and  ask  him  to  call  the  carriage  ?  " 

"  I  will,  certainly,"  responded  Cecil,  grateful  for 
the  excuse  to  get  away. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

"  High  instincts,  before  which  our  mortal  nature 
Did  tremble  like  a  guilty  thing  surprised." 

WOBDSWOBTH. 

ON  the  drive  home  Julia's  mind  reverted  to  her 
discussion  with  Mrs.  Davering,  and  dwelt  on  the 
extraordinary  report  which  she  had  retailed  with  a 
sort  of  startled  fascination. 

"  I  believe  she  invented  the  whole  thing,"  she 
said  to  herself  indignantly ;  but  the  more  she  re- 
flected upon  the  matter  the  less  likely  she  thought 
it  that  Mrs.  Davering,  who  was  quite  devoid  of 
imagination,  could  have  achieved  such  a  bold 
stroke  of  fancy. 

"  I  was  dreadfully  bored  this  evening,"  remarked 
Philip,  with  a  suppressed  yawn.  "  I  don't  know 
when  I  have  felt  so  dull  at  a  party." 

"  It  must  have  been  something  in  the  air.  I 
too  was  longing  to  get  home." 

"  That  is  not  very  complimentary  to  Carey." 

"  I  do  not  feel  especially  called  upon  to  compli- 
ment Dr.  Carey." 

"  Why  are  you  always  so  savage  about  him  ?  " 
asked  Philip,  in  a  vexed  tone.  "  He  is  certainly 
very  good  to  you,  and  you  know  that  he  is  one  of 
my  best  friends." 


206  A   CARPET  KNIGHT. 

"  I  am  not  savage,  as  you  call  it,  about  his  friend- 
ship for  you." 

"  But  why  won't  you  treat  him  fairly  ?  There  is 
that  hair-brained  donkey,  Charley  Hazzard,  whom 
you  let  hang  about  you,  and  are  as  gracious  to,  as 
he  pleases." 

"  Mr.  Hazzard's  hanging  about  me  for  the  last 
three  weeks  has  amounted  to  his  sending  me  a 
New  Year's  card,"  said  Julia  laughing. 

"  That  is  because  he  has  been  confined  to  his  own 
house." 

"  Well,  here  we  are  at  ours,"  said  Julia,  and  as 
she  spoke  the  carriage  stopped. 

Philip  let  her  in  with  his  dead-latch  key.  The 
lights  were  all  out  in  the  drawing-room.  They 
passed  along  the  entry  to  the  library,  of  which 
Philip  was  just  going  to  open  the  door,  when 
Julia  placed  a  detaining  hand  on  his,  already  on 
the  handle. 

"  What  is  the  matter  ?  "  asked  Philip. 

"  Stop  a  moment,"  she  said. 

He  took  his  hand  away,  and  looked  at  her  in  sur- 
prise. She  dropped  her  eyes  and  drew  a  long 
breath. 

"  Now  open  it." 

Philip  did  so  wonderingly. 

The  room  was  quite  empty.  The  gas  was  lit,  but 
turned  down  low.  Only  the  fire  was  burning 
brightly.  Some  large  sheets  of  paper,  closely  writ- 
ten in  part,  but  some  untouched,  lay  with  a  pen 
and  inkstand  near  a  low  lamp  on  the  table,  attest- 


A   CARPET  KM  CUT.  207 

ing  that  some  one  had  been  interrupted  in  writ- 
ing. 

Julia  looked  about  her,  with  an  odd,  startled  air. 

"What  is  the  matter?"  asked  Philip  again. 
"  One  would  think  you  expected  to  see  a  ghost." 

"  Oh !  no,"  said  Julia,  "  not  a  ghost."  She  sat 
down  in  a  chair,  and  began  slowly  drawing  off  her 
gloves. 

"  I  suppose  every  one  has  gone  to  bed,  it  is  the 
most  sensible  thing  they  could  have  done,"  said 
Philip.  "  I  will  go  and  shut  up  the  house,"  and  he 
started  on  his  nightly  round  to  see  that  everything 
was  secure  before  retiring  himself.  This  tour  of 
inspection  was  always  very  thorough  and  usually 
began  with  the  cellar,  before  descending  to  which 
Plutonic  region  he  lighted  a  candle  which  stood 
ready  on  a  table  in  the  entry. 

Julia  heard  his  footsteps  die  away  on  the  cellar 
stairs,  and  the  next  moment  one  of  the  large  doors 
of  the  drawing-room  was  swung  slowly  open  and 
a  man's  figure  was  half  visible  in  the  firelight 
against  the  blackness  of  the  space  beyond. 

She  started  to  her  feet.  "Who  is  that?  "she 
asked  sharply. 

"Who  indeed,"  said  a  voice,  —  one  she  knew 
and  loved  so  well  that  her  heart  was  stirred  at  the 
unexpected  sound. 

"  I  am  truly  ashamed  of  myself,"  said  Mr.  Dray- 
ton,  emerging  from  the  darkness.  "  Do  you  know, 
my  dear,  that  I  sat  up  after  the  ladies  had  gone  to 
bed,  on  the  plea  that  I  had  some  important  writing 


208  -^   CARPET  KNIGHT. 

to  do,  with  the  unacknowledged  intention  of  sweet- 
ening my  task  by  a  little  chat  with  you  and  hear- 
ing the  first  news  of  the  party,  and  suddenly  I  be- 
came so  sleepy  that  I  felt  that  I  must  go  and  lie 
down  —  why,  what  has  happened  ?  Are  you  not 
well,  my  child  ?  " 

"  You  startled  me  so,"  said  Julia,  pressing  her 
hand  to  her  heart. 

He  had  come  close  beside  her  now,  and  noticed, 
as  the  light  from  the  shaded  lamp  fell  full  upon 
her,  the  unusual  paleness  of  her  face. 

"  Sit  down,"  he  said,  affectionately.  "  I  am 
sorry.  I  should  have  remembered  that  you  prob- 
ably thought  yourself  alone,  but  I  have  been  fast 
asleep  and  only  just  waked  up." 

"It  is  not  your  faiilt  at  all,"  said  Julia,  "  but  my 
own  stupidity.  I  do  not  know  why  I  am  so  ner- 
vous to-night." 

"  You  are  a  little  over-tired,"  said  her  guardian 
tenderly,  drawing  her  head  to  his  shoulder  as  he 
stood  beside  her  chair. 

Suddenly  she  burst  into  tears,  and  flung  her 
arms  round  him,  clinging  to  him  like  a  hurt  child. 

"What  is  it?  Why,  what  is  it,  my  dear  girl? 
What  has  happened  to  give  you  pain  ?  " 

"  Nothing,  oh !  nothing.  Do  not  ask  me,"  she 
sobbed,  hiding  her  face  against  his  arm. 

"  Something  must  have  happened,  Julia,"  said 
Mr.  Drayton,  in  a  moved  tone.  "  I  know  you  too 
well  not  to  be  sure  of  that." 

"  Yes,  there  was  something,"  she  admitted,  "  but 


A   CARPET  KNIGHT.  209 

it  was  only  what  some  one  said.  It  was  not  worth 
listening  to.  I  am  over-tired,  as  you  say,  and  fool- 
ish." 

"Was  it  something  which  Dr.  Carey  said?" 
asked  her  guardian,  very  gravi-ly. 

Julia  hastily  raised  her  head.  "  No,"  she  an- 
swered, "  it  certainly  was  not." 

"  What  was  it  about?" 

"  About  you." 

"  Then  you  must  tell  me  what  it  was." 

"  Oh !  do  not  ask  me,"  she  cried. 

"I  think  I  ought  to  know." 

"  But  it  was  mere  nonsense  —  mere  idle  gos- 
sip ! " 

"  It  must  have  had  some  importance,  to  have 
moved  you  so." 

"It  seemed  to  me  profane,"  said  Julia,  with 
flash  ing  eyes. 

"  Tell  me  what  it  was." 

"  I  don't  know  how  I  can.  I  was  told  that  — 
that  there  was  a  report  —  that  you  "  — 

"  That  I  what  ?  " 

"  Were  thinking  of  being  married,"  said  Julia, 
too  loyal  to  her  friend  to  breathe  her  name  in  such 
connection. 

"  It  was  profane,"  said  Mr.  Drayton   solemnly. 

Julia  smiled  a  happy  smile,  looking  up  into  his 
face. 

"  Oh,  I  could  n't  bear  it,"  she  whispered. 

The  playful  light  returned  to  his  eyes.  "  Silly 
little  woman,"  he  said,  and  smoothed  the  hair  ten- 
14 


210  A    CARPET  KNIGHT. 

derly  away  from  her  forehead  as  he  spoke.  Then 
he  stooped  and  kissed  her.  He  intended  the  caress 
to  be  as  parental  as  every  other  that  he  had  ever  be- 
stowed, but  as  their  lips  met  something  happened. 
A  sudden  wave  of  feeling  seemed  to  sweep  them 
together.  His  arms  tightened  around  her  for  a 
moment,  and  then  dropped  to  his  sides.  He  hardly 
knew  where  he  was.  She  had  half  turned  away. 
Then  in  a  moment  he  took  one  of  her  little  slender 
hands  in  his,  and  raised  it  to  his  lips  with  a  deep- 
drawn  sigh. 

"  Good-night,  my  child,"  he  said,  and  led  her  to 
the  door,  where  she  slipped  by  Philip,  returning 
from  his  inspection,  like  a  phantom,  and  ran  has- 
tily up  stairs. 

If  great  works  necessarily  grow  slowly  this  is 
not  true  of  great  events.  The  unconscious  prepa- 
ration for  them  may  often  be  gradual,  but  they 
seem  to  shoot  into  existence  at  the  last,  and  before 
we  conceive  that  they  are  possible  confront  us  in 
their  entirety  as  accomplished  facts. 

If  any  one  will  take  the  trouble  to  recall  the 
period  of  his  or  her  life  which  has  been  the  most 
decisive,  and  to  count  out  the  days  or  weeks  which 
went  to  make  it,  he  will  hardly  believe  that  last 
summer,  or  the  week  before  last,  was  really  quite 
as  long  as  that  other  time  which  meant  so  much 
and  had  such  far-stretching  consequences. 

To  Julia  all  the  night  which  followed  was  one 
strange,  fevered  dream.  She  seemed  to  see  Law- 
rence Carey,  Mrs.  Davering,  Cecil  Wilmott,  Edith, 


A   CARPET  KMHItr.  211 

and  her  guardian,  masquerading  in  varied  groups 
and  unfamiliar  scenes.  The  world  was  topsy-turvy 
and  all  her  thoughts  gone  mad,  while  all  sensation 
\\as  centred  about  one  little  action  which  was  for- 
ever recurring  to  her  memory  with  its  first  inten- 
sity of  meaning.  No  other  kiss  which  her  guar- 
dian had  ever  given  her  had  been  like  this  one. 
1  Ir  had  not  kissed  her  often,  but  when  he  had  done 
so  it  had  been  as  the  tender  protector  who  took  the 
place  of  a  father,  and  who  always  acted  as  if  he 
were  one.  She  had  believed  before  this  that  she 
loved  him  as  an  affectionate  daughter  might  have 
loved  a  father,  who  had  been  all  in  all  to  her  lonely 
childhood,  giving  her  a  home  and  warm  regard,  and 
even  a  certain  right  over  his  life,  by  placing  her  at 
tlie  head  of  his  household,  but  she  never  dreamed 
of  wishing  to  be  more  to  him  than  this,  or  of  ever 
being  less,  until  to-night.  She  had  been  surprised 
and  shocked  at  the  wild  pang  of  jealousy  which 
shot  through  her  at  Mrs.  Davering's  suggestion  of 
the  possibility  of  Mr.  Drayton's  marrying  again, 
but  even  that  had  not  inspired  any  doubt  in  her 
of  the  nature  of  her  affection  for  him.  She  was 
ashamed  of  the  anger  and  hatred  which  were  in 
her  heart  when  the  idea  was  conjured  up  of  a  pos- 
sible wife,  —  a  somebody  who  should  stand  between 
herself  and  him,  but  she  little  guessed  their  cause. 
She  was  perfectly  contented.  She  had  all  she 
wanted.  She  wished  for  no  change,  and  even  now 
she  desired  nothing  so  much  as  that  things  should 
remain  as  they  always  had  been. 


212  A    CARPET  KNIGHT. 

If  she  could  only  live  on  as  she  had  done,  hold- 
ing the,  same  happy,  honored  place  in  Mr.  Dray- 
ton's  heart  and  home,  it  would  be  enough  ;  but  she 
had  an  uneasy  sense  that  this  was  not  to  be.  There 
was  something  in  the  rapture  of  that  kiss  which 
left  a  haunting  fear  behind.  Could  they  live  on, 
in  the  old  way,  since  that  had  been  ?  She  wished 
to  persuade  herself  that  they  could,  and  yet  she  al- 
most feared  the  light  of  day  lest  it  should  show 
her  that  the  disc,  in  which  she  had  seen  reflected 
all  the  pageant  of  her  life,  was  cracked  in  a  thou- 
sand fragments,  like  the  magic  mirror  of  the  Lady 
of  Shalott. 

Morning  came  at  last  and  brought  with  it  no 
sudden  change.  She  rose  and  dressed  early,  and 
slipped  down  to  the  breakfast  room,  where  the  first 
person  whom  she  saw  was  Mr.  Drayton,  seated  at 
a  little  table  near  the  window,  writing.  He  looked 
up  as  she  entered,  and  smiled  at  her  with  his  kind, 
familiar  smile. 

"  Good  morning,  my  dear,"  he  said  pleasantly. 
"  I  have  had  to  pay  for  my  laziness,  you  see,  by 
getting  up  early  to  accomplish  my  work." 

Julia  only  answered  his  greeting  with  a  word. 
Her  tongue,  which  was  usually  so  glib,  seemed  un- 
accountably stiff,  and  strive  as  she  would  to  speak 
and  look  as  usual,  her  voice  sounded  strange  to 
herself. 

Mr.  Drayton  did  not  seem  to  notice  that  she 
made  none  of  her  ordinary  inquiries  as  to  how  he 
was  feeling,  or  how  he  had  slept.  He  went  on 


A    CARPET  K\H;ilT.  213 

writing  steadily,  while  she  moved  about  the  room 
after  her  wonted  fashion,  drawing  the  curtain  of  a 
window,  where  she  thought  the  light  too  strong, 
arranging  some  flowers  in  a  low  glass  dish  on  the 
breakfast  table,  opening  a  new  review,  cutting  the 
leaves  of  a  number  of  "  Punch  "  which  had  just 
come.  She  would  often  take  advantage  of  a  quiet 
moment  like  this,  if  she  saw  that  he  was  finishing 
his  work,  to  ask  his  opinion  of  some  topic  of  the 
day,  in  which  she  chanced  to  be  interested ;  but  she 
saw  him  fold  up  his  papers  in  silence  this  morn- 
ing, and  handed  him  the  letters  she  had  just  sorted 
out  for  him,  from  a  pile  brought  in  by  Rogers, 
without  a  word.  He  thanked  her  in  his  usual 
tone ;  but  it  was  a  relief  to  her  when  Miss  Ruth- 
ven  came  down,  and  soon  after  Philip  and  Edith. 

She  went  forward  and  greeted  her  friend  with 
peculiar  warmth. 

'•  I  am  perfectly  well  to-day,  thank  you,"  said 
Kilith.  in  answer  to  her  affectionate  inquiries. 

She  looked  indeed  the  picture  of  health,  as  fresh 
and  as  delicate  as  a  pink  rose  in  spring. 

"  We  missed  you  so  much  at  the  party  last 
night,"  said  Julia.  "  Every  one  was  asking  after 
you." 

"  Every  one  !  "  repeated  Edith  laughing.  "Who, 
for  instance  ?  " 

She  flushed  a  little  as  she  asked  the  question, 
although  she  put  it  carelessly. 

Julia  did  not  notice  this,  being  otherwise  ab- 
sorbed. 


214  A    CARPET  KNIGHT. 

"  It  is  hard  to  remember  a  list  of  names,"  she 
said  ;  "  there  were  so  many.  I  know  that  Mr. 
Drum  Kettleby  did,  and  Mr.  Hazzard  and  Mrs. 
Davering,  —  and  —  let  me  see  —  and  Mr.  Foxall, 
and  Mrs.  Percy,  —  and  more  besides,  I  think." 

"  They  were  all  very  kind,"  said  Edith  coldly. 

"  I  think  that  thy.  friend  Edith  Arnold  took  the 
wiser  part,  Julia,"  said  Miss  Ruthven,  "  in  resting 
quietly  at  home,  on  the  evening  before  her  first 
ball." 

"  I  am  sure  she  did,"  said  Philip,  "  for  Julia 
looks  very  tired  this  morning." 

"  It  does  not  make  much  difference  how  I  look," 
said  Julia.  "  You  know  the  Assembly  is  not  my 
first  ball." 

"  It  is  your  first  Assembly,"  said  Philip,  "  and  it 
is  a  great  pity  that  you  should  not  enjoy  it." 

"  Oh  !  she  will  enjoy  it  when  she  is  there,"  said 
Edith.  "  Julia's  looks  and  feelings  in  the  evening 
never  depend  upon  having  had  a  good  sound  sleep 
the  night  before,  as  mine  do.  Even  at  school,  we 
used  to  notice  that  the  more  tired  she  was  the  bet- 
ter she  looked  by  lamp  light.  Her  cheeks  used  to 
have  a  way  of  flushing  and  her  eyes  such  an  aston- 
ishing way  of  shining,  late  at  night." 

"  They  have  still,"  said  Mr.  Drayton,  who  had 
just  left  his  letters  to  come  to  table.  Julia  busied 
herself  in  making  him  a  cup  of  coffee,  and  said 
nothing. 

"  Miss  Ruthven  and  I  had  such  a  pleasant  talk 
last  evening,"  said  Edith.  "  I  was  hearing  all 


A   CARPET  KNIGHT.  215 

about  the  Revolution  —  the  time  when  General 
Washington  was  quartered  in  Philadelphia,  and 
then  about  the  Republican  Court,  and  who  the 
worthy  general  used  to  come  to  visit  in  Philadel- 
phia after  his  administration.  I  am  to  be  taken 
to  see  one  of  the  very  houses  which  he  used  to  stay 
in  on  the  other  side  of  the  river,  am  I  not  ?  "  she 
asked,  turning  to  the  old  lady. 

"  If  it  should  please  thee,  my  dear." 

"  Of  course  it  will  please  her,"  said  Philip, 
"  and  1  invite  myself  to  be  of  the  party.  I  always 
used  to  imagine  when  I  was  a  boy,  Miss  Arnold, 
that  Aunt  Margaretta  had  lived  herself  in  the  days 
of  the  Revolution.  She  tells  those  stirving  tales 
with  all  the  spirit  of  an  eye-witness." 

"  Now  thou  art  drawing  on  thy  fancy,  Philip," 
said  Miss  Ruthven,  with  a  gleam  of  gentle  humor, 
"  and  crediting  me  with  too  great  tenacity  of  life. 
I  was  only  recounting  to  Edith  Arnold  some  of  the 
events  which  my  mother  has  narrated  to  me  as  oc- 
curring when  she  was  young." 

"  Ah !  I  know  all  about  those  dear  old  stories," 
said  Philip,  "  and  they  are  a  thousand  times  better 
than  the  stupid  entertainment  to  which  Julia  and 
I  doomed  ourselves." 

"  Was  not  your  party  pleasant?  "  asked  Edith. 

"  Pleasant  enough,"  said  Philip.  "  Very  much  as 
they  usually  are,  and  we  agreed  afterwards  that  we 
had  both  wished  ourselves  at  home,  all  the  evening." 

"  One  often  says  things  which  one  does  not 
mean,  when  one  is  tired,"  said  Julia.  "  I  really 


216  A   CARPET  KNIGHT. 

think  now  that  I  should  have  been  sorry  to  miss 
the  party." 

"  Sapit  qui  reputat,"  said  Mr.  Drayton.  He  too 
had  had  his  wakeful  hours,  in  the  preceding  night, 
but  they  had  been  much  sadder,  more  bitter  hours 
than  Jidia's. 

They  had  been  sweetened  by  none  of  the  mys- 
tery of  half-awakened  consciousness  to  a  stronger, 
deeper  love  than  had  been  conceived  of  in  the  be- 
ing he  cared  for  most  on  earth.  Algernon  Dray- 
ton  had  not  supposed  for  a  moment  that  the  knowl- 
edge of  the  nature  of  his  love  for  Julia,  of  which 
he  had  been  wholly  ignorant  until  it  so  unexpect- 
edly betrayed  him  to  himself,  was  shared  by  his 
ward,  —  still  less  that  his  love  was  returned. 

Beautiful,  true,  and  fearless  as  the  image  of 
Julia  always  presented  itself  to  him,  it  never  oc- 
curred to  him  to  think  of  her  as  anything  but  a 
sweet  trust  which  God  had  committed  to  his  safe- 
keeping, whose  welfare  and  happiness  he  was  bound 
to  seek,  whose  nature  for  its  own  sake  it  was  his 
pleasure  and  his  duty  to  develop.  He  felt  his  re- 
sponsibility all  the  more  because  this  charge  had 
been  a  voluntary  one  and  the  girl  when  she  had 
come  to  him  had  been  in  need  of  friends,  and  he 
had  loved  her  truly  and  tenderly ;  but  how  or  when 
this  love  had  grown  into  the  desire  to  keep  her  for 
his  own  —  to  join  her  life  to  his  —  he  could  not  be- 
gin to  conjecture ;  he  was  too  utterly  pained  and 
shocked  at  such  a  thought  to  try.  Thus  to  dis- 
cover suddenly  in  himself  what  seemed  to  him 


A  CARPET  KNICIIT.  217 

the  most  selfish  of  all  impulses  appeared  incredi- 
ble. He  considered  it  unpardonable.  He  could  not 
forgive  himself  for  having  felt  the  feeling  —  much 
less  for  having  shown  it ;  and  thinking  of  Julia's 
youth  and  innocence,  he  resolved  that  come  what 
might  he  woidd  not  drag  it  away  in  its  freshness 
and  loveliness  from  its  natural  surroundings  and 
transplant  it  to  his,  to  be  henceforth  shadowed  by 
the  sadness  of  his  years. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

"  But  strive  still  to  be  a  man  before  your  mother." 

COWPEE. 

IN  view  of  the  state  of  things  which  she  had  her- 
self hastened  to  precipitate,  Mrs.  Davering  had 
made  up  her  mind  that  she  must  speak  to  Charley. 
She  had  always  shrunk  instinctively  from  letting 
him  know  that  she  knew  of  his  fancy  for  Julia,  her 
seeming  ignorance  leaving  her  much  more  free  to 
minister  to  it;  but  it  would  not  do  to  allow  the 
prize  to  be  carried  off  from  under  his  unsuspecting 
eyes  without  opening  them  to  what  she  feared  was 
taking  place.  He  must  be  made  to  realize  his  dan- 
ger and  pushed  to  some  immediate  action. 

"  I  want  to  speak  a  word  to  you,  Charley,"  she 
said,  coming  into  the  billiard-room  where  he  and 
Mr.  Davering  and  Dr.  Carey  were  smoking  their 
cigars  after  dinner. 

"  Yes,  mother.  Is  there  anything  the  mat- 
ter?" 

"  Nothing  of  moment,  but  I  should  like  to  see 
you  in  my  own  room." 

"  Certainly."  He  followed  her  up-stairs  very 
composedly,  and  sat  down  on  a  low  ottoman  beside 
the  fire,  in  the  cosy  little  sitting-room  which  opened 
from  her  bed-chamber.  "  Do  you  object  to  my 


A   CARPET  KM  t  HIT.  219 

smoking  ?  "  he  asked.  "  Shall  I  throw  away  my 
cigar  ?  " 

"  My  dear  son !  Is  it  impossible  to  rouse  you  to 
the  importance  of  anything?  " 

"  Why,  what  would  you  have  ?  "  he  inquired, 
innocently.  "  You  said  there  was  nothing  of  conse- 
quence the  matter." 

"  There  is  nothing  actually  the  matter  now,  but 
I  am  dreadfully  troubled  at  something  which  may 
happen." 

-  What  is  it?" 

"  It  would  be  a  great  misfortune  to  you,  I  fear." 

"  A  great  misfortune  ?  " 

"Yes.  Would  you  not  consider  it  so,  if  you 
heard  that  Julia  Prescott  was  engaged  ?  " 

Charley  frowned,  and  was  silent. 

"  I  suppose  that  would  depend  a  good  deal  on 
whom  she  was  engaged  to,"  he  said,  after  a  pause. 

"  Suppose  it  were  to  Dr.  Carey  ?  " 

"  To  Lawrence  Carey  ?  Absurd !  Why  should 
you  think  of  it  ?  " 

"  Only  because  I  am  very  sure  that  he  is  think- 
ing of  it.  Do  you  fancy  that  it  is  for  the  sake  of 
your  company  that  he  has  lingered  all  this  while  in 
Philadelphia?" 

"  Not  entirely.  He  has  enjoyed  his  visit  for 
other  reasons,  of  course.  Philip  has  been  one  at- 
traction." 

"  Julia  has  been  a  much  stronger  one." 

"  Why,  he  has  known  Julia  —  Miss  Prescott,  I 
mean,  since  she  was  a  little  girl." 


220  A    CARPET  KNIGHT. 

"  So  have  you." 

Mr.  Hazzard  got  up  and  went  to  the  window, 
and  threw  away  the  end  of  his  cigar. 

"  What  do  you  want  me  to  do  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Whatever  you  want  to  do.  If  you  are  willing 
to  let  things  go  on,  do  nothing." 

"How  can  I  help  things  'going  on,'  as  you  call 
it?" 

"  If  you  cared  about  it,  you  could  help  it." 

"  Suppose  I  do  care  ?  " 

"  Then  why  not  teU  Julia  so  ?  " 

Charley  thrust  his  hands  into  his  pockets,  with  a 
faint  whistle,  and  took  a  turn  backwards  and  for- 
wards from  one  end  to  the  other  of  his  mother's 
dainty  little  morning-room  before  he  answered. 

"  What  would  be  the  use  of  that,"  he  asked  at 
last,  "  if,  as  you  think,  she  cares  for  Carey  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  think  she  cares  for  Dr.  Carey." 

"  Then  where  is  the  danger  ?  " 

"The  danger  lies  in  him.  I  think  Dr.  Carey 
cares  very  much  for  her,  and  no  one  can  tell  what 
headway  he  may  make  if  you  leave  the  game  all  in 
his  hands." 

"  I  see,"  said  Charley,  nodding  wisely.  "  Well, 
I  won't  do  that." 

His  mother  was  delighted.  She  had  hardly 
hoped  for  such  a  ready  acceptance  of  her  counsel, 
fearing  that  in  awakening  him  to  his  peril  she 
should  dishearten  him ;  but  his  heart  was  not  faint. 

Miss  Edith  Arnold  was,  meanwhile,  absorbed  in 
the  preparations  for  her  first  ball ;  and  I  am  forced 


A    CARPET  X.\/<;//T.  221 

to  acknowledge  that  the  subject  of  dress  rose  to 
very  large  proportions  in  her  mind  on  this  day. 

She  was  saved  any  grave  doubt,  to  be  sure,  as  to 
what  she  should  wear  by  the  fact  that  her  simple 
wardrobe  only  offered  one  suitable  toilet  for  such 
an  occasion,  but  she  was  a  good  deal  disturbed  lest 
this  might  not  prove  in  all  respects  the  thing ;  so 
she  dressed  early,  and  betook  herself  to  her  friend's 
door  in  an  anxious  mood. 

"  How  pretty  you  look  !  "  cried  Julia.  "  And 
your  dress  is  lovely." 

"Do  you  really  think  it  pretty?"  asked  Edith4 
with  a  shy,  downward  glance  at  the  dress,  which 
appeared  to  consist  of  waves  upon  waves  of  a  trans- 
parent pink  material,  of  which  the  general  effect 
was  as  of  a  rose-colored  cloud. 

"  Of  course  I  do.  It  is  charming,  and  suits  your 
style  so  well.  Come  and  look  at  yourself  in  my 
long  glass.  What  made  you  think  of  wearing  those 
silver  ornaments  ?  " 

"They  are  Gertrude's.  She  insisted  upon  my 
bringing  them  with  me,"  answered  Edith,  mightily 
pleased ;  "  and  Gertrude  ordered  the  dress  made 
for  me  in  New  York,  so  that  it  is  all  her  taste. 
She  is  particularly  fond  of  pink  and  silver." 

"  So  am  I  —  at  least  I  like  them  of  all  things  for 
you,"  said  Julia.  "  But  I  must  begin  to  get  ready 
myself,  or  we  shall  be  late." 

Philip  met  them  down-stairs,  looking  cheerfid 
and  handsome,  and  apologized  for  his  father,  who 
had  gone  to  see  a  client  at  one  of  the  hotels,  he 


222  A   CARPET  KNIGHT. 

said,  and  hoped  to  join  them  at  the  Assembly. 
Then  they  all  three  rolled  away  in  the  carriage 
through  the  damp,  muddy  streets,  and  Edith's 
heart  beat  high  with  muffled  expectation.  She 
thought  of  her  mother  and  sister  in  their  country 
home,  where  she  knew  that  the  primitive  little 
household  was  already  sinking  to  its  long  night's 
rest,  and  then  her  fancy  came  back  with  a  bound 
to  the  image  of  herself  which  she  had  seen  in 
Julia's  mirror.  The  contrast  saddened  her  mo- 
mentarily, only  to  add  greater  zest  to  her  enjoy- 
ment when  her  former  mood  returned. 

On  the  whole  she  was  a  happy  girl  as  Philip 
held  out  his  hand  to  help  her  from  the  carriage  at 
the  side  door  of  the  Academy,  and  they  passed 
along  the  carpet  spread  over  the  pavement,  be- 
neath the  awning,  flanked  on  either  side  by  a  gap- 
ing, curious  crowd  and  guarded  by  policemen,  and 
vanished  from  the  dim  world  without  to  the  bright 
one  within. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

"And  e'en  while  fashion's  brightest  art*  decoy, 
The  heart,  distrusting,  aaka  if  this  be  joy." 

GOLDSMITH. 

A  WALTZ  was  being  played  as  they  entered 
the  ball-room,  and  Dr.  Lawrence  Carey  surprised 
Edith  by  approaching  and  asking  for  the  pleasure 
of  the  dance.  The  Bostouian  had  so  seldom  fa- 
vored her  with  his  notice  that  she  glanced  invol- 
untarily at  Julia,  and  saw  that  she  had  accepted 
Mr.  Hazzurd's  arm,  who  was  leading  her  towards 
a  small  room  on  the  left,  which  opened  from  the 
larp-r  hall  at  that  end. 

Mrs.  Davering,  too,  looked  anxiously  after  the 
retreating  couple,  and  then  critically  at  the  pair 
which  had  just  left  her  side,  for  Edith  had  granted 
Dr.  Carey's  request  and  been  whirled  away  into  the 
mazes  of  the  dance. 

"Miss  Arnold  is  a  very  good  dancer,"  she  re- 
marked to  Philip.  "  I  should  hardly  have  expected 
it ;  country  girls  so  seldom  are." 

k>  Miss  Arnold  is  so  graceful  that  I  should  have 
said  she  could  hardly  fail  to  dance  well,"  replied 
Philip  stoutly. 

Mrs.  Davering  looked  at  him  in  astonishment. 

"  Good  dancing  is  not  always  a  matter  of  grace," 


224  A   CARPET  KNIGHT. 

she  said  composedly;  "however,  it  seems  that  in 
this  instance  you  would  have  been  right." 

She  was  further  surprised,  in  the  course  of  the 
evening,  at  the  attention  excited  and  received  by 
Edith  Arnold ;  but  her  interest  was  only  partially 
involved  in  these  minor  events  of  the  evening,  her 
whole  heart  being  set  on  its  more  important  issues. 

The  two  persons  who  had  found  a  seat  somewhat 
removed  from  the  giddy  whirl,  in  the  small  room 
set  apart  for  conversation,  were  in  Mrs.  Davering's 
eyes  the  only  two  persons  at  the  ball.  She  would 
have  been  gratified  if  she  could  have  seen  them, 
for  Charley  Hazzard  was  talking,  and  Julia  seemed 
to  be  a  not  uninterested  listener. 

He  was  telling  of  the  expected  advent  of  some 
English  cricket  players  that  spring,  and  from 
cricket  came  to  discussing  lawn  tennis,  where 
they  found  common  ground  of  interest,  as  they  had 
often  played  together,  and  Miss  Prescott  was  an 
excellent  player.  Mr.  Hazzard  gradually  waxed 
enthusiastic. 

"  How  pretty  you  used  to  look  in  that  blue  and 
white  tennis  dress  of  yours,"  he  cried.  "  Do  you 
remember  ?  " 

"  No,  I  do  not,"  said  Julia. 

"  Well,  I  do,  and  I  am  sure  you  ought  to." 

"  I  never  remember  looking  pretty,  but  you  are 
right  in  saying  that  I  ought  to  remember  it  if  I 
had." 

"  Nonsense.  Of  course  you  do  !  At  least,  you 
certainly  remember  the  dress." 


A  c.  i  ///'/•/   KM  a  i  IT.  225 

"  I  certainly  do,  and  I  would  much  rather  remem- 
ber the  beauty.  It  might  cheer  me  in  my  old  age." 

"  It  is  just  like  you  to  talk  of  your  old  age,  at 
your  first  Assembly,"  said  Charley,  with  a  resigned 
air. 

"  It  seems  to  show  that  I  have  postponed  my 
first  Assembly  rather  unfortunately  long." 

"  Why,  yes,"  rejoined  Mr.  Hazzard,  with  rarely 
facetious  emphasis.  "  I  believe  you  are  actually 
nlnctci  n  .'  " 

"  I  am  almost  twenty,  sir,  and  in  another  year  I 
shall  be  twenty-one !  " 

"  In  another  year  "  —  these  playful  words  sug- 
gested to  Charley  Hazzard  all  the  changes  which 
a  year  might  bring,  and  he  recalled  his  mother's 
warning. 

"  I  wonder  where  you  and  I  will  be  in  another 
year,"  he  said  despondently. 

"  Why,  here,  I  suppose,  of  course." 

"  I  wish  we  might  be  together,"  replied  Mr. 
Hazzard.  "  I  mean  —  that  is  —  do  you  think  you 
could  ever  care  for  me  ?  " 

"Of  course.  I  care  for  you  now,"  said  Julia. 
"  Are  we  not  the  best  of  friends  ?  '' 

"  Do  you  —  don't  you  think  you  might  care 
more  than  that  ?  "  asked  Charley  anxiously. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Oh !  You  know  what  I  mean.  You  must 
know." 

"  No,  I  do  not,"  she  said  uneasily. 

"  Well,  I  do,"  said  Charley.     "  I  am  just   dis- 

15 


A   CARPET  KNIGHT. 

tracted  about  you,  and  I  always  shall  be !     Don't 
you  think,  if  you  tried,  you  might  get  to  caring  for 

me?" 

"  Dear  Mr.  Hazzard,"  said  Julia,  rising,  "  I  do 
care,  as  much  as  I  ever  could,  but  it  is  only  as  a 
friend,  and  I  must  not  let  you  talk  to  me  like  this." 

"  Then  you  will  go  and  marry  some  other  fellow," 
said  Charley  desperately. 

"  How  foolish  !  I  am  not  going  to  marry  any  one. 
Is  it  possible  that  you  did  not  know  that  I  intend 
to  be  an  old  maid  ?  " 

"  Do  you,  really?  " 

"  Of  course  I  do." 

"  Will  you  promise  to  tell  me  if  you  change  your 
mind?" 

Julia  laughed.  It  never  occurred  to  her  to  take 
him  seriously.  "  How  persistent  you  are  !  "  she 
said.  "Here  comes  Mr.  Freeman,  to  whom  I 
promised  a  waltz." 

"  Oh !  Here  you  are,  Miss  Prescott,  and  Haz- 
zard too.  It  is  the  first  time  I  have  seen  you  about, 
old  man,  since  your  accident,"  said  Mr.  Freeman, 
making  his  appearance  at  this  moment.  "  He  does 
not  look  like  a  sick  man,  does  he,  Miss  Prescott? 
By  the  bye,  may  I  not  have  this  dance?  " 

"Hang  the  fellow!"  thought  Charley.  "It  is 
just  my  luck  to  have  him  come  up  !  "  But  there 
was  no  help  for  the  interruption,  and  he  consoled 
himself  with  the  reflection  that  if  Julia  would  not 
promise  to  smile  on  him,  she  had  at  least  denied 
the  intention  of  accepting  any  one  else. 


A  CARPET  KNH;IIT.  227 

Mr.  Ila/zard's  knowledge  of  the  fair  sex  was 
certainly  not  profound,  or  he  would  hardly  have 
put  so  much  faith  in  this  assurance.  Being  de- 
serted by  Julia  he  went  in  search  of  Mrs.  Percy, 
who  was  always  rather  a  favorite  of  his  ;  and  Mrs. 
Davering  was  provoked  at  meeting  him  in  the  cor- 
ridor, a  little  later,  with  the  handsome  widow  on 
his  arm,  but  she  was  much  too  wise  a  woman  to 
show  her  displeasure  to  her  son.  She  knew  that 
she  must  not  quarrel  with  him  if  she  hoped  to 
bend  him  to  her  will. 

The  ball  was  half  over  before  Edith  had  gotten 
beyond  the  first  novel  enjoyment  of  lights  and  mu- 
sic and  fragrant  flowers.  A  general  impression 
was  all  that  she  had  gained  until  she  had  danced  a 
great  deal  and  walked  in  the  wide  corridor  many 
times,  saying  actually  nothing  in  the  most  excited 
of  tones  to  the  stupidest  of  partners.  They  were 
all  very  stupid.  She  was  quite  aware  of  that,  but 
she  could  not  help  confessing  that  it  was  fortunate 
they  were  ;  for  in  the  exceedingly  foolish  state  to 
which  her  grand  toilet  and  beautiful  surroundings 
had  reduced  her,  what  could  she  have  said  to  a 
clever  man  ? 

Just  as  she  had  asked  herself  that  question, 
Cecil  Wilmott  appeared  and  inquired  if  "  this  " 
was  not  his  waltz. 

"  Why,  I  am  not  engaged  to  you  for  a  waltz," 
cried  she,  innocently.  In  truth  she  had  not  seen 
him  before,  that  evening. 

"  You  do  not  remember  whose  dance  it  is,  I  am 


228  A    CARPET  KNIGHT. 

sure,"  said  Cecil.  "  We  might  as  well  consider  it 
as  mine." 

"  But  I  do  remember,"  replied  Miss  Arnold. 
"  I  promised  this  dance  to  Mr.  Foxall."  Her  tone 
as  she  made  this  second  remark  was  quite  different 
from  her  first  impulsive  exclamation.  It  seemed 
to  say  that  those  who  wished  to  dance  with  her 
would  be  obliged  to  ask  for  what  they  wanted. 
Her  consent  was  not,  it  appeared,  to  be  taken  for 
granted. 

Cecil  quite  understood  the  condition,  but  it  net- 
tled him. 

"  There  would  have  been  no  use  in  my  engaging 
you  beforehand,"  he  said.  "  One  never  finds  one's 
partner  at  an  Assembly  after  the  room  fills  up." 

"  It  would  have  been  useless  to  ask  me  to  dance, 
of  course,"  she  answered,  demurely,  "  if  you  really 
thought  you  could  not  find  me." 

"You  mean  to  imply  that  other  people  have 
been  more  sanguine,"  said  Cecil,  with  an  amused 
smile. 

"  Perhaps  I  do." 

"  But  not  more  fortunate,  for  with  the  best  in- 
tentions in  the  world  it  is  very  hard  to  find  a  per- 
son in  this  crowd." 

"  I  suppose  .one  must  begin  by  looking  for  the 
person,"  she  answered,  for  she  had  resolved  that 
she  would  not  easily  forgive  his  unexplained  es- 
trangement. 

"  Ah !  Now  we  are  agreed,"  said  Cecil.  "  That 
is  precisely  where  I  did  begin.  Come  !  There  is  no 


A  C/1/.7'/:/   K\ICHT.  229 

reason  why  you  should  wait  for  Foxall.  Will  you 
not  give  me  the  dance  .'  " 

"I  am  afraid  that  is  impossible,  Mr.  Wilmott, 
for  here  is  Mr.  Foxall." 

Cecil  indeed  beheld  that  yellow-haired  gentle- 
man advancing  through  the  crowd,  for  Mr.  Foxall, 
who  was  highly  imitative,  had  perceived  with  re- 
sj).-ct  the  growing  estimation  with  which  society 
was  welcoming  Miss  Arnold,  and  had  proceeded  to 
fling  himself  at  her  feet,  in  a  metaphorical  manner 
practically  illustrated  by  his  engaging  her  five 
dunces  ahead,  and  waiting  about  in  a  nervous  way 
during  the  fourth  dance  for  the  happy  moment 
when  he  could  claim  her  hand.  It  was  not  likely 
therefore  that  he  would  be  much  behind  time,  and 
Cecil  bit  his  lip  as  he  noticed  the  contented  ex- 
pression with  which  he  approached  his  partner. 

"  Of  course,  if  you  prefer  Foxall,  I  have  nothing 
to  say,"  he  remarked,  in  a  very  low  tone. 

Edith  had  not  time  to  answer  ;  Mr.  Foxall  was 
already  at  her  side,  saying  nothing  very  earnestly 
on  the  subject  of  their  dance ;  but  she  raised  her 
eyes  suddenly  and  shot  at  Wilmott  the  only  re- 
proachful glance  which  they  had  ever  given  him. 

Cecil  was  melted  in  a  moment.  "  Can  I  take 
you  to  supper  ?  "  he  whispered,  following  as  the  tri- 
umphant Foxall  was  leading  her  towards  the  ball- 
room from  the  corridor  where  the  meeting  had 
taken  place. 

"  I  am  engaged  for  supper  to  Mr.  Philip  Dray- 
ton,"  she  answered  softly,  turning  back  her  head  a 
little. 


230  A   CARPET  KNIGHT. 

"  Then  I  shall  come  for  a  dance  just  afterwards," 
said  Cecil.  "  Do  not  forget." 

She  smiled  in  answer  without  looking  at  him, 
and  the  next  moment  was  lost  to  sight  among  a 
hundred  other  waltzers,  and  again  resigned  herself 
to  the  gay  spirit  of  the  moment  and  the  new  charm 
of  charming.  It  was  not  unnatural  that  she  should 
enjoy  her  triumph,  and  no  small  compliment  for  a 
little  homebred  maiden  to  find  herself  admired  and 
courted  in  such  a  brilliant  scene ;  but  she  was  con- 
scious that  these  things  alone  would  not  have  made 
her  happy.  She  knew  that  since  those  last  words 
of  Cecil's  she  felt  unreasonably  lighter-hearted,  in 
spite  of  her  determination  not  to  be  reconciled. 

When  Philip  came  for  her  to  go  to  supper  he 
found  her  seated  on  a  sofa  in  the  entry  with  quite 
a  little  group  about  her,  of  which  Mr.  Foxall  was 
one,  and  the  rest  was  composed  of  three  of  the  ex- 
tremely young  gentlemen  whose  acquaintance  she 
had  made  on  New  Year's  Day.  They  were  still 
a  good  deal  occupied  with  their  kid  gloves,  and 
were  further  trammeled  on  this  occasion  by  scru- 
pulously kept  dancing-cards,  to  which  they  were 
continually  referring  in  order  to  determine  their 
movements,  as  a  mariner  to  his  chart  and  com- 
pass. 

Philip  stood  still  for  a  moment  without  speaking. 
Edith  was  evidently  full  of  fun,  and  was  amusing 
the  young  gentlemen  very  much,  although  how  she 
managed  it  Philip  could  not  tell,  being  conscious 
of  the  difficulty  of  the  task  and  too  far  off  to  catch 


A  CARPET  KNK;IIT.  231 

what  slu-  was  saying.  He  was  quite  near  enough, 
however,  to  see  how  pretty  she  was  looking;  nor 
was  he  the  only  person  who  was  alive  to  this. 
Among  others,  Cecil  Wiluiott.  who  happened  to  be 
parsing,  had  paused  also,  though  unseen  by  Philip. 
There  was  a  fascination  to  him  in  watching  the 
girl,  which  he  thought  it  safe  to  yield  to,  since  she 
did  not  know  that  lie  was  near:  and  he  noted  the 
exquisite  whiteness  of  her  neck  and  rounded  arms, 
the  softness  and  purity  of  outline  of  her  face,  the 
changing  light  on  her  fair  hair,  which  was  drawn 
back  and  fastened  by  a  silver  arrow  in  a  wavy  knot 
behind,  and  the  quiet  sincerity  of  her  blue  eyes  as 
the  merry  smile  died  out  of  them,  which  seemed  to 
preclude  the  possibility  of  guile.  Cecil  breathed 
hard  as  he  looked  at  her,  and  something  rose  up  in 
his  throat,  which  he  gulped  down  with  an  impatient 
sigh,  as  he  turned  away. 

"  Are  you  ready  for  supper  ?  "  Philip  asked,  ad- 
vancing a  step  or  two  so  as  to  speak  to  Edith  across 
Mr.  Foxall,  which  he  could  do  very  easily,  owing  to 
his  greater  height. 

"Oh,  yes,  1  am  quite  ready,"  she  answered, 
gladly,  and  the  other  men  made  way,  as  she  rose  to 
take  his  arm  with  the  happy  confidence  with  which 
he  always  seemed  to  inspire  her. 

"  It  is  better  to  go  now,"  he  said,  approvingly, 
"  for  we  are  a  little  late  to  get  good  seats."  He 
led  her  towards  the  stairs ;  descending  which  a  sud- 
den turn  brought  them  to  a  broader  flight  at  one 
end  of  the  supper  room,  on  which  a  crowd  of  ladies 


232  A    CARPET  KNIGHT. 

in  dresses  of  every  shade  and  color  were  sitting, 
while  their  busy  cavaliers  flew  about  to  supply 
their  wants ;  and  looking  across  from  the  top  of 
the  steps  where  they  stood,  Edith  saw  another  stair- 
way equally  wide,  at  the  opposite  end  of  the  room, 
on  which  was  a  like  assemblage. 

The  accidental  combination  of  colors,  mellowed 
by  distance  into  harmony,  formed  an  exquisite  rain- 
bow effect  of  bright  and  tender  tints,  still  further 
enhanced  to  her  admiring  eyes  by  a  background  of 
tall  green  plants. 

Below  were  small  tables  arranged  on  either  side 
the  room  for  the  lady  patronesses  and  other  ma- 
trons of  distinction,  while  a  cloud  of  black  coats 
about  the  long  table  in  the  centre  shifted  uneasily 
to  and  fro,  a  dark  undulating  ring,  in  the  midst  of 
which  the  daintily  spread  feast  with  flowers  and 
fruit  and  glittering  glass,  lighted  with  tall  wax 
candles,  looked  all  the  more  brilliant. 

"  Here  is  Cecil.  He  will  wait  here  with  you  a 
moment,"  said  Philip,  "  while  I  find  you  a  seat." 

Edith  hardly  heard  him ;  she  was  absorbed  in 
the  scene  before  her,  and  could  not  withhold  a  faint 
exclamation  of  delight. 

"  So  you  like  your  first  ball,"  said  Cecil. 

"  Oh,  very  much."  She  had  not  turned  her  head 
to  look  at  him,  but  she  recognized  his  voice.  "  I 
do  not  see  how  I  could  help  it,"  she  added,  with  a 
happy  little  sigh. 

"  Do  you  mean  that  you  would  if  you  could  ?  " 
asked  Wilmott. 


A    CARPET  KMCIIT.  233 

"  I  mean  that  ray  will  has  nothing  to  do  with  it." 

"  A  woman  always  likes  ;i  thing  better  for  that, 
I  believe,"  sai<l  Cecil. 

"  I  am  not  sure,"  replied  Edith,  doubtfully,  "but 
I  think  a  man  never  likes  a  thing  unless  he  has 
determined  to  like  it." 

"You  are  mistah.  n  there,"  said  Wilmott.  "A 
man  often  likes  what  he  has  determined  that  he 
should  not  like." 

"  \Vould  and  should  have  different  meanings.  I 
did  not  say  that  a  man  always  did  his  duty." 

"  But  you  credit  him  with  very  great  strength  of 

win." 

"  I  think  when  a  man  does  a  thing  he  generally 
knows  that  he  is  going  to  do  it." 

"  For  all  that,  it  may  be  a  sort  of  fatality,"  said 
Cecil. 

u  How  a  fatality  ?  "  she  asked,  turning  suddenly 
towards  the  speaker,  but  he  shook  his  head  at  her 
mischievously  for  all  answer  to  her  question,  and 
at  that  moment  Philip  returned. 

"  I  have  found  Julia,"  he  said  to  Edith.  "  Would 
you  like  to  sit  beside  her?  " 

"  I  should,  thank  you.     Where  is  she  ?  " 

"  Just  below." 

He  gave  her  his  arm,  and  as  they  were  moving 
down  the  stairs  to  join  Julia,  who  was  seated  near 
the  bottom  among  a  group  of  girls,  but  with  a 
place  beside  her  which  she  had  evidently  been 
keeping  for  Edith,  they  saw  a  very  handsome 
woman  dressed  in  gold-colored  brocade,  who  had 


234  A    CARPET  KNIGHT. 

been  looking  in  vain  for  an  empty  table  at  the  side 
of  the  supper-room,  come  to  the  foot  of  the  stairs 
and  point  with  her  fan  to  the  seat  which  they  were 
seeking,  and  the  gentleman  with  her  seeming  to 
approve,  she  glided  into  it  with  such  a  gracious 
smile  to  Julia  that  it  would  evidently  have  been 
quite  impossible  to  dispute  her  right. 

"  How  provoking  !  "  exclaimed  Philip. 

"  Will  you  not  sit  here,  Miss  Arnold  ?  "  asked 
Miss  Louisa  Mortimer,  who  happened  to  be  near. 

"  Thank  you.  You  are  very  kind,"  said  Edith, 
as  Miss  Mortimer  made  room  for  her.  She  was  in- 
deed glad  to  sit  anywhere  rather  than  near  the 
dark-haired  beauty,  in  whom  she  had  not  failed  to 
recognize  Mrs.  Percy.  Philip  went  off  to  get  her 
supper,  and  presently  she  saw  Cecil  Wilmott  ap- 
proach the  stairs  from  below  and  stand  for  a  mo- 
ment, with  an  indifferent  air,  beside  the  banister, 
half  leaning  against  it.  Mrs.  Percy,  who  had  been 
talking  languidly  to  Julia,  chanced  to  glance  up 
and  met  his  eyes.  Edith  noticed  that  he  started  as 
though  he  had  not  been  conscious  of  her  vicinity, 
but  the  next  moment  he  bent  down  and  said  some- 
thing to  her  at  which  she  laughed  and  shook  her 
fan,  then  he  sprang  lightly  up  the  stairs  and  was 
once  more  beside  Edith,  before  she  realized  that  he 
was  coming. 

"  Have  you  not  begun  your  supper  yet  ? "  he 
asked. 

"  Not  yet.     I  have  just  found  a  seat." 

"  We  shall  be  too  late  for  our  dance.     It  is  too 


A  CARPET  KM'iHT.  235 

bad.  I  wanted  to  have  it  before  the  room  re- 
filled." 

"  We  might  postpone  it  until  the  next  Assem- 
bly," said  Edith. 

Cecil  glanced  at  her  quickly.  She  was  decapita- 
ting a  pansy. 

"  What  has  made  you  angry  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Nothing.  I  am  not  angry,"  she  answered,  with- 
out raising  her  eyes. 

"  Here  is  some  salad,  Miss  Arnold,"  said  Philip, 
who  had  approached  with  a  plate  and  a  glass. 

"  Oh,  thank  you ! "  She  looked  past  Cecil  at 
Philip,  with  a  soft  grateful  smile. 

"  She  has  learned  some  of  the  ways  of  the  world," 
thought  Cecil. 

u  Let  me  hold  your  champagne  for  you,"  he  said, 
taking  it  as  he  spoke  from  Philip's  hand,  without 
making  the  slightest  motion  to  surrender  his  seat. 

''  Thank  you,  I  iH'i'd  not  trouble  you,"  said  Edith 
quietly,  offering  to  take  the  glass  which  Cecil  held 
just  out  of  her  reach.  Philip  looked  at  them  both, 
colored  slightly  and  turned  away. 

*  You  need  not  trouble  me,  at  any  rate,"  said 
Cecil.  i%  Holding  your  glass  is  no  trouble,  but 
there  is  something  in  your  manner  which  leads  me 
to  fancy  that  you  would  rather  like  to  trouble 
me." 

Edith  looked  up  quickly,  and  her  eyes  met  his. 
They  did  not  sink  or  falter,  but  flashed  out  an  in- 
dignant light  which  lent  a  new  aspect  to  her  face. 

"  You  are  mistaken,"  she  said,  and  seemed  half 


236  A    CARPET  KNIGHT. 

inclined  to  quarrel  with  him  for  an  instant.  Then, 
as  though  struck  with  the  want  of  dignity  of  such 
a  proceeding,  she  smiled  at  her  own  childishness. 
Just  then  Philip  returned. 

"  I  am  going  to  ask  you,  Philip,"  said  Cecil, 
uneasily,  "to  let  me  carry  Miss  Arnold  off  for  a 
waltz  which  she  has  promised  me." 

"  If  Miss  Arnold  wishes  to  be  carried  off,  I  have 
nothing  to  say." 

"  Of  course  she  does.  It  is  our  only  chance  to 
have  our  dance  quietly,  before  the  crowd  gets 
back." 

"  Can  I  not  get  you  something  more,  Miss  Ar- 
nold ?"  asked  Philip. 

"  Nothing  more,  thank  you." 

"  Then  you  will  go  with  Mr.  Wilmott  ?  " 

"  I  certainly  promised  him  the  dance." 

Philip  bowed  in  silence. 

The  music  was  playing  in  a  dreamy  sort  of  way 
when  Edith  and  Cecil  reached  the  dancing  hall. 
Only  a  few  couples  were  moving  about  slowly  over 
the  polished  floor,  although  numbers  of  elderly 
ladies,  who  had  been  taken  early  to  supper,  had 
returned  and  were  seated  together  chatting  in 
groups,  with  an  occasional  unfortunate  damsel 
stranded  beside  them. 

"  How  unhappy  they  look !  "  cried  Dr.  Carey. 
"  They  seem  exposed  like  Andromeda  to  the  mercy 
of  the  monster  Gossip  and  bound  hand  and  foot  by 
Conventionality,  while  Theseus  has  returned  to  the 
supper  room  (after  his  custom  in  this  latitude)  to 


A   CARPKT  KM ( HIT.  237 

further  refresh  himself  before  undei -taking  the  de- 
liverance." 

"  Pray  what  does  Theseus  do  in  Boston  ?  "  asked 
Miss  Prescott,  for  she  and  her  partner  formed  one 
of  the  slowly  revolving  pairs. 

"  Oh !  Andromeda  is  not  so  tightly  bound  there." 

"  Perhaps  she  knows  how  to  defend  herself  ?  " 

"  She  may  know  a  little  better  how  to  avoid  re- 
quiring defense." 

"  That  is  fortunate,"  said  Julia. 

"Why?" 

"  Because  I  am  afraid  there  is  no  Theseus  to 
come  to  the  rescue." 

"  Theseus  is  a  very  commonplace  person,  of 
course,  with  us,"  said  Dr.  Carey.  "  He  has  neither 
the  cap  of  darkness  with  which  your  hero  is  fur- 
nished (that  I  take  to  be  ignorance)  nor  the  wings 
of  Mercury  to  raise  him  above  eating  his  supper  at 
the  same  time  that  Andromeda  eats  hers,  and  if  he 
has  slain  no  beautiful  Gorgon  with  whose  head  to 
petrify  her  enemies,  he  fails  to  desert  her  after- 
wards." 

Wilmott,  meanwhile,  and  Miss  Arnold  were  float- 
ing in  time  to  the  music.  They  had  both  danced 
many  times  that  evening,  but  to  each  this  dance 
seemed  different. 

"  How  light  you  are  upon  your  feet,"  said  Cecil 
softly. 

"  I  am  very  fond  of  dancing.     Are  not  you  ?  " 

"Yes.  With  some  people.  It  sounds  stupid,  but 
I  feel  as  if  you  and  I  could  dance  forever  without 
growing  tired." 


238  A   CARPET  KNIGHT. 

She  smiled,  without  raising  her  eyes. 

"  Who  gave  you  those  flowers  which  you  prize  so 
much  ?  "  asked  Wilmott. 

"  What  flowers  ?  " 

"  That  hat  full  of  pansies,"  he  said  provokingly, 
for  he  had  noticed  that  she  kept  it  on  her  arm,  al- 
though she  had  left  her  other  bouquets  on  a  chair, 
for  convenience. 

"  I  do  not  prize  them  so  much,"  she  answered. 

"  Well,  waiving  that ;  who  gave  them  to  you  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know." 

"  Oh,  come  now,  that  is  absurd.  Of  course  you 
know." 

"  No,  I  do  not." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  Philip  sent  them 
anonymously  ?  " 

There  was  just  a  perceptible  pause,  and  then  she 
said,  "  What  leads  you  to  think  that  Philip  —  I 
mean  Mr.  Dray  ton  —  sent  them  ?  " 

"  I  know  who  you  mean,  for  I  saw  my  cousin 
choosing  them  at  Pennock's,"  replied  Wilmott, 
coolly.  "  Of  course  I  had  a  shrewd  suspicion  of 
whom  they  were  for,  but  it  never  occurred  to  me 
that  he  meant  to  make  a  mystery  of  it." 

"  They  are  very  beautiful,"  returned  Edith. 
"  How  kind  he  was  to  think  of  me  !  " 

"  I  thought  you  said  a  little  while  ago  that  you 
did  not  prize  them?  " 

"  Now  that  I  know  who  sent  them  to  me,  I  do 
prize  them,"  said  Miss  Arnold.  She  seemed 
thoughtful  for  a  moment.  Perhaps  she  was  re- 


A   CARPET  KXICI/T.  239 

membering  how  unwillingly  Philip  had  resigned 
the  hope  of  dancing  with  her  for  that  of  taking  her 
to  supper,  ;ind  that  she  had  hardly  interchanged 
two  words  with  him  that  evening. 

"  What  are  you  thinking  of  ?  "'  asked  Cecil. 

"  Oh,  of  nothing !  " 

"  Will  you  look  at  me  ?  "  he  said  earnestly. 

"  What  for?  "  she  responded,  still  continuing  to 
avert  her  ga/r.  They  were  almost  alone  now  in 
the  centre  of  the  room,  and  waltzing  very  slowly. 

"  I  want  to  see  whether  Philip  is  really  such  a 
lucky  fellow  as  you  would  have  me  believe,"  re- 
plied Cecil. 

"  You  are  mistaken  in  supposing  that  I  would 
have  you  believe  anything,"  .she  said. 

Cecil  looked  longingly  into  her  sweet  downcast 
Cape. 

"  I  would  give  a  great  deal  if  you  would  let  me 
see  your  eyes,"  he  said. 

She  hesitated,  and  then  raised  them  half  reluc- 
tantly to  his,  but  dropped  them  in  an  instant. 

"  Thank  you,"  he  whispered,  and  just  then  the 
music  came  to  an  end. 

They  paused  near  the  chair  on  which  Edith  had 
carefully  deposited  her  two  bouquets.  It  chanced 
to  be  Cecil's  chair  for  the  cotillon,  but  Miss  Ar- 
nold's flowers  had  been  pushed  on  one  side,  and  a 
huge  bunch  of  crimson  Jacqueminots  occupied  their 
place. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  Mrs.  Percy,  who  was 
seated  beside  the  roses.  "  I  had  no  idea  those 


240  A   CARPET  KNIGHT. 

were  yours,  and  naturally  put  mine  there  for  safety : 
—  Miss  Arnold,  is  it  not  ?  " 

Edith  started  involuntarily,  and  then  turned  to 
the  lady,  who  had  risen,  while  Cecil  performed  an 
introduction. 

"I  hope  Miss  Arnold  will  forgive  my  uncon- 
scious rudeness,"  she  said.  "  One  gets  in  the 
habit  of  being  a  tyrant,  and  confiscating  one's  part- 
ner's seat." 

"  Very  naturally,"  returned  Edith.  "  It  is  I  who 
should  apologize  for  the  intrusion." 

"  There  is  certainly  no  reason  why  you  should 
apologize,"  said  Cecil  in  a  vexed  tone.  "  I  told 
you  to  put  your  flowers  on  my  chair." 

"  Yes,  I  have  no  doubt  you  are  to  blame  in  the 
matter,"  replied  Mrs.  Percy,  displaying  all  her 
dimples,  with  a  sunny  smile.  "  After  all,  it  is  Mr. 
Wilmott  who  is  responsible  for  my  red  roses,  too," 
she  continued,  turning  again  to  Edith,  and  then  with 
a  careless  glance  at  the  young  man  which  seemed 
at  the  same  time  to  claim  him  and  to  depreciate 
her  possession,  she  glided  away  with  Mr.  Freeman, 
who  had  stood  impatiently  by  during  the  conversa- 
tion, waiting  for  the  last  waltz  before  the  cotillon. 
The  music  had  begun  again.  Wilmott  looked  very 
cross. 

"  Will  you  dance  once  more  ?  "  he  asked. 

"Thank  you,  I  think  not,"  said  Edith,  coldly. 

At  this  moment  Mr.  Drum  Kettleby  approached. 

"Everything  is  ready,  Miss  Arnold,"  he  said, 
deferentially,  "  whenever  you  would  like  to  begin 


A   CARPET  KNIGHT.  241 

the  cotillon.  Our  seats  are  the  first  two,  at  the 
upper  end  of  the  hall ;  may  I  conduct  you  to  them  ? 
—  But  no,  I  beg  pardon  !  I  see  that  they  are  bring- 
ing in  too  many  chairs  at  that  side !  It  will  make 
a  crowd.  I  will  return  in  an  instant."  He  darted 
off,  leaving  Edith  still  on  Cecil  Wilmott's  arm. 

"We  had  better  walk  towards  my  seat.  You 
can  leave  me  there,"  she  said  gravely. 

"  Are  you  to  dance  with  Drum  Kettleby  ?  "  asked 
Cecil,  in  a  tone  of  extreme  surprise.  "  Why,  that  is 
a  great  honor,"  he  added,  as  though  quite  forget- 
ting his  ill-humor. 

"Is  it?"  asked  Edith,  with  a  faint  touch  of 
sc-orn. 

Wilmott  did  not  seem  to  notice  her  tone.  "  Drum 
Kettleby  leads  the  cotillon,"  he  said.  "  That  is 
i-(  ally  very  nice." 

"  Oh,  it  is  delightful !  "  returned  Edith,  giving 
vent  to  an  odd  bitterness  which  she  could  not  re- 
press. 

"  I  assure  you,"  pursued  Cecil  seriously,  "  that 
there  are  hundreds  of  girls  who  would  give  their 
eyes  to  have  Drum  Kettleby  ask  them  for  the  co- 
tillon at  the  Assembly." 

"  What  do  they  obtain  in  return  ?  "  asked  Miss 
Arnold  satirically. 

"  Well,  they  get  a  beautiful  bouquet  to  begin 
with,"  said  Cecil,  smiling,  as  he  regarded  her  bur- 
den of  flowers.  "  Do  you  know,"  he  continued, 
"  I  thought  of  course  you  were  to  dance  with  Philip 
Drayton." 

itt 


242  A   CARPET  KNIGHT. 

"  I  wish  I  were  !  "  said  Edith  heartily.  "  He 
asked  me  to  dance  with  him." 

"And  you  were  previously  engaged?  Well, 
it  is  no  small  honor  to  lead  the  cotillon  in  the 
foyer  of  the  Academy,"  pursued  Cecil,  in  a  manner 
which  Edith  inwardly  condemned  as  sententious, 
but  she  knew  that  her  own  irritation  was  unwar- 
rantable. 

"How  I  do  wish  you  could  put  on  my  ball 
dress,"  she  said  hotly,  "  and  lead  it  with  Mr.  Drum 
Kettleby !  I  am  sure  you  would  appreciate  the 
honor  so  much  more  than  I  do." 

Cecil  grew  very  pale.  "  When  you  have  been 
a  little  longer  in  society,"  he  said,  "  you  will  under- 
stand more  about  these  things." 

Edith  was  cooled  at  once.  They  had  reached 
the  end  of  the  room,  where  a  bank  of  flowers  con- 
cealed the  orchestra.  She  slowly  withdrew  her  arm 
from  that  of  her  companion,  and  turned  so  as  to 
face  him  with  an  air  of  quiet  disdain. 

"  I  may  be  mistaken,  Mr.  Wilmott,"  she  said, 
"  but  I  do  not  think  that  a  prolonged  acquaintance 
with  society  will  lead  me  to  understand  you  any 
better  than  I  do  at  present." 

She  never  knew  what  Wilmott  would  have  an- 
swered, for  at  this  instant,  Mr.  Drum  Kettleby 
suddenly  returning  and  clapping  his  hands,  the 
music  for  the  cotillon  began,  and  Cecil  was  obliged 
to  repair  to  his  partner,  nor  did  he  again  approach 
or  speak  to  her  in  the  course  of  the  evening,  which 
was  perhaps  not  unnatural. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

"  Some  natural  sorrow,  low,  or  pain, 
That  baa  been,  and  may  be  again." 

WOKDSWOITTH. 

THE  morning  after  the  Assembly  was  dull  and 
cheerless.  Julia  complained  of  a  bad  headache 
and  did  not  come  down  to  breakfast. 

At  about  noon  Edith  sallied  forth  in  thick  boots 
and  a  brown  ulster  for  a  solitary  walk.  It  was  the 
first  that  she  had  attempted  since  she  came  to  Phil- 
adelphia, and  there  was  a  spice  of  adventure  in  the 
undertaking  wliich  recommended  it  to  her  in  her 
present  mood.  It  was  quite  within  the  range  of 
possibility  that  she  might  lose  her  way,  but  she  in- 
tended by  her  discretion  and  self-possession  to  ren- 
der such  an  event  extremely  improbable. 

She  wished  to  be  quite  to  herself,  unmolested  by 
any  of  the  Drum  Kettlebys  of  her  acquaintance ; 
and  so,  avoiding  the  neighborhood  of  the  Square, 
turned  her  steps  along  Eighteenth  Street,  crossed 
Chestnut  and  Market,  and  would  have  continued 
her  direct  course,  being  a  good  deal  absorbed  in 
her  own  thoughts,  if  the  breadth  and  stateliness  of 
Arch  Street  had  not  arrested  her  attention  and  de- 
termined her  to  choose  it  rather  than  the  one  she 
was  pursuing.  She  remembered  hearing  Julia  say 


244  A   CARPET  KNIGHT. 

that  the  inhabitants  of  the  older  part  of  Arch 
Street  were  chiefly  Quakers,  a  people  whose  ways 
seemed  peculiarly  mysterious  and  interesting  to 
Edith ;  and  then  Mr.  Drayton  had  once  teased 
Miss  Ruthven  by  telling  her  that  when  he  was  a 
boy  it  used  to  be  the  fashion  to  walk  in  Arch  Street 
of  a  Sunday  afternoon  to  see  the  pretty  Quaker- 
esses sitting  at  their  windows,  Miss  Ruthven  main- 
taining that  this  was  a  base  scandal.  Edith  found 
herself  gazing  wistfully  at  the  large,  old-fashioned 
houses,  half  hoping  to  see  a  rosy-cheeked  inmate 
with  delicate  frilled  cap  and  muslin  kerchief  peep- 
ing from  between  the  curtains  of  the  wide  windows, 
and  quite  unconscious  of  the  rarity  of  the  Quaker 
garb  among  the  younger  members  of  the  society 
in  her  own  day. 

As  she  passed  on,  thus  divided  between  her 
thoughts  and  fancies  and  her  naturally  keen  inter- 
est in  the  objects  about  her,  which  no  amount  of 
preoccupation  could  entirely  destroy,  she  was  quite 
startled  to  see  a  well-known  face  gazing  out  ab- 
stractedly from  one  of  those  very  windows. 

It  was  no  merry,  girlish  one,  such  as  she  had 
been  picturing  to  herself,  but  that  of  a  very  grave 
young  man,  whose  gravity  when  his  face  was  in  re- 
pose made  him  look  much  older  than  his  years. 

Philip  Drayton,  for  it  was  he,  chancing  to  with- 
draw his  eyes  from  the  opposite  side  of  the  street 
where  they  were  fixed  with  a  certain  stern  patience, 
saw  the  compact  little  figure  of  Edith  Arnold,  close 
to  him,  as  it  almost  seemed,  with  the  sweet  face 


A   CARPET  KNIGHT.  245 

upturned  to  his ;  and  at  the  same  moment  a  voice 
from  behind  summoned  him,  and  he  was  obliged  to 
turn  away  from  the  pretty  vision,  which  when  he 
looked  again,  was  gone. 

Edith  passed  on,  at  a  loss  to  imagine  how  he  hap- 
pened to  be  there ;  but  it  was  not  of  Philip  she  had 
been  thinking  at  the  moment  that  she  recognized 
him,  but  of  another  person.  She  had  indeed  been 
driven  out  to  walk  by  the  half-acknowledged  need 
of  a  quiet  hour  in  which  to  reconcile  her  conflict- 
ing feelings  with  regard  to  this  person,  and  the  un- 
expected sight  of  Philip  jarred  upon  her  reverie. 
It  brought  his  kindness  suddenly  to  mind,  and  her 
own  shortcoming  in  deserting  him  on  the  previous 
evening,  of  which  she  was  distinctly  conscious. 

She  tried  to  assure  herself  that  it  was  nothing,  — 
Philip  probably  had  not  thought  of  it  again.  He 
certainly  had  made  no  effort  to  detain  her,  but  she 
began  to  wonder  why  he  had  sent  her  those  beauti- 
ful flowers  if  he  did  not  care  for  her  society  ?  Was 
it  his  custom  to  take  so  much  trouble  for  people  in 
whom  he  felt  no  interest?  and  why  had  he  sent 
the  flowers  anonymously  ?  It  would  have  been  a 
great  deal  pleasanter,  she  thought,  to  know  whom 
they  came  from.  She  might  have  thanked  him 
graciously  and  been  saved  all  regret  upon  the  sub- 
ject, whereas  now  she  retained  the  uncomfortable 
conviction  that  she  had  ill  requited  his  generosity. 

Just  as  she  had  thought  of  this,  she  heard  hasty 
steps  behind  her,  and,  turning,  saw  Philip  hurrying 
to  overtake  her. 


246  A    CARPET  KNIGHT. 

"  Where  are  you  going,  so  far  from  home,  Miss 
Arnold  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  do  not  know,"  she  answered.  "  I  only  came 
out  to  walk." 

"  But  why  did  you  choose  such  a  damp,  muddy 
day?" 

"  Oh,  I  am  well  protected,  and  you  know  in  the 
country  we  go  out  in  all  sorts  of  weather." 

"  Do  you  ?  It  is  not  a  common  trait  with  coun- 
try people,"  said  Philip.  "  But  then,  you  do  not 
exactly  come  under  that  head." 

"  Why  not  ?  "  asked  Edith.  "  I  am  a  country 
girl,  of  course." 

"  Not  exactly.  I  have  always  noticed  that  there 
is  a  distinction  to  be  made  between  country  people 
and  people  who  live  in  the  country.  You  belong 
to  the  latter  class." 

"  You  like  the  country,  do  you  not  ?  "  asked 
Edith. 

"  Very  much.  I  should  live  there  if  I  had  my 
way ;  —  but  shall  we  not  turn  here  ?  This  gets  to 
be  more  of  a  business  street  as  it  goes  on.  I  have 
an  hour  to  myself  unexpectedly.  What  do  you  say 
to  our  spending  it  at  the  Academy  of  Fine  Arts  ? 
There  are  a  few  good  pictures  there  just  now." 

"  I  should  like  that,"  she  said.  "  I  am  quite 
curious  to  know  what  you  were  doing  in  that  house 
in  Arch  Street,  where  I  saw  you,  a  little  while 
ago  ?  "  she  continued,  when  they  had  turned  the 
corner  of  Broad  Street  and  were  walking  towards 
the  Academy. 


A  CARPET  KNK;HT.  247 

"  For  the  moment  I  was  not  doing  anything." 

"  So  it  seemed,  but  I  fancied  it  was  hardly  like 
you  to  be  doing  nothing." 

"  I  should  have  been  as  much  surprised  as  you 
were,"  said  Philip,  "  if  I  had  been  told  yesterday 
that  I  should  be  there.  The  truth  is  that  my  fa- 
ther was  summoned  by  an  old  friend  and  client  to 
make  an  alteration  in  her  will,  and  as  he  was  just 
leaving  town  he  sent  me  instead.  I  was  kept  wait- 
ing for  about  ten  minutes  only  to  hear  that  she  had 
decided  to  leave  her  will  as  it  was.  I  was  really 
delighted  to  hear  it,  for  I  had  caught  sight  of  you 
as  you  passed  the  window,  and  knew  that  by  hurry- 
ing a  little  I  should  have  a  fair  chance  of  overtak- 
ing you." 

"  And  you  never  gave  a  thought  to  the  unfortu- 
nate heir,  who  may  have  lost  thousands  by  the  old 
lady's  change  of  mind  ?  " 

"  On  the  contrary,  I  am  inclined  to  think  that  it 
was  just  the  other  way,"  said  Philip.  "  She  prob- 
ably only  sent  for  my  father  in  a  fit  of  temper, 
thinking  that  she  would  do  awful  things  in  the  way 
of  disinheriting  her  descendants  ;  and  perhaps  the 
very  fact  of  being  obliged  to  open  her  intention  to  a 
stranger,  instead  of  to  an  old  and  tried  friend  who 
might  have  understood  her  special  cause  of  aggra- 
vation, had  something  to  do  with  her  change  of  pur- 
pose, in  which  case  you  see  that  her  heirs  apparent 
or  presumptive  have  as  much  reason  to  be  pleased 
as  I  had,  —  I  will  not  acknowledge  that  they  have 
more." 


248  A    CARPET  KNIGHT. 

"  That  is  a  very  fine  compliment,"  said  Edith. 
"  I  think  I  must  make  you  a  courtesy ;  "  and  she 
turned  to  him  on  the  first  step  of  the  Academy, 
which  they  had  just  reached,  and  dropped  a  mock 
reverence  with  an  air  of  comic  humility. 

Glancing  up  from  this,  her  eyes  encountered 
those  of  another  person  bent  upon  her  with  a  half 
satirical  expression  which  did  not  quite  conceal  a 
look  of  pain. 

She  lowered  them  instantly,  acknowledging  the 
presence  of  Cecil  Wilmott  —  for  it  was  he  —  with 
a  somewhat  constrained  bow. 

A  moment  later,  his  light  overcoat  was  receding 
in  the  distance  and  Edith  was  climbing  the  drab 
stone  steps  which  lead  up  to  the  galleries,  with 
Philip  by  her  side,  but  he  noticed  that  she  did  not 
laugh  again ;  her  mood  was  changed. 

Julia  meanwhile,  having  summoned  her  maid,  to 
ask  for  a  cup  of  tea,  not  long  after  Edith  went  out, 
was  handed,  with  the  tea,  a  little  note  from  Mr. 
Drayton,  whom  she  had  only  seen  for  a  moment  at 
the  ball  the  night  before,  as  he  had  come  very  late 
and  left  early,  without  waiting  as  usual  to  escort 
them  home.  She  hastily  opened  his  note,  which  ran 
as  follows :  — 

"  DEAREST  JULIA,  —  I  seize  the  only  moment  I 
have  to  write  to  you,  as  I  am  called  to  Washington 
on  business.  I  cannot  tell  how  long  I  may  be  de- 
tained—  possibly  a  day  —  possibly  a  week;  but 
will  return  as  soon  as  I  can,  you  may  be  sure  "  — 


A  CARPET  KNK;HT.  249 

Here  Julia  rang  again  for  her  maid.  "  Has  Mr. 
Drayton  (jone  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Y» •>,  Mi-s  Julia,  he  left  early  this  morning." 

"  That  will  do,"  said  Julia. 

The  woman  hesitated  for  a  moment  before  leav- 
ing the  room,  although  she  understood  that  Miss 
Prescott  wished  to  be  alone.  She  could  see  from 
her  young  mistress'  expression  that  she  was  deeply 
troubled,  and  could  not  bear  to  go  without  a  word 
of  consolation. 

"  Miss  Ruthven  seen  to  the  packing  of  his 
things  herself,  Miss,"  she  said  at  last,  timidly. 

"  That  was  very  kind  on  the  part  of  Miss  Ruth- 
ven," said  Julia.  "  Now  you  can  go,  Emily." 
And  Emily  went  Her  mistress  sank  back  on  her 
pillow  and  lay  very  still  for  a  while,  until  her  eyes 
fell  again  on  her  guardian's  note,  and  she  remem- 
bered that  she  had  not  finished  reading  it.  She 
took  it  up  with  a  sense  of  apprehension  strangely 
at  variance  with  her  usual  contentment  in  reading 
anything  from  him.  Somehow,  she  felt  as  if  he 
had  suddenly  gone  a  long  way  off  from  her.  This 
unexpected  journey,  undertaken  without  a  word  of 
warning,  seemed  to  have  carried  him  much  farther 
away  than  Washington,  but  the  style  of  the  note, 
when  she  resumed  it,  was  not  very  formidable  :  — 

"  Now  for  a  word  in  confidence,  dear  Julia.  I 
would  rather  have  spoken  it,  but  take  my  only  op- 
portunity to  say  that  I  should  not  be  surprised  if 
Philip's  friend,  Dr.  Carey,  should  seek  ere  long  to 
see  you.  I  fancy  that  he  wishes  to  speak  to  you  of 


250  A   CARPET  KNIGHT. 

something  which  he  has  very  much  at  heart ;  and  so 
I  should  like  you  to  know  that  I  think  him  an  ex- 
cellent young  man,  with  strong  common  sense,  fair 
ability,  highly  cultivated,  who  has  made  a  good 
choice  of  a  profession.  In  short,  that  if  you  should 
be  able  to  listen  to  him  as  he  desires,  he  is  not  apt 
to  give  you  reason  to  regret  your  choice. 

"  At  all  events,  do  not  decide  hastily,  my  child. 
Take  time  to  consider,  and  believe  me  as  always, 
"  Affectionately  and  faithfully, 

ALGERNON  DRAYTON." 

As  she  finished  reading  the  note,  Julia  sprang 
out  of  bed,  and  began  her  toilet  with  a  sort  of 
desperate  energy.  It  seemed  to  her  that  she  could 
not  stay  shut  up  in  one  room  any  longer. 

It  was  a  little  odd  that  a  few  moments  later 
there  came  a  knock  at  her  door,  and  a  card  was 
handed  in,  on  which  was  inscribed  the  name  of  Dr. 
Lawrence  Carey. 

"  Did  you  say  that  I  was  not  well,  and  not  able 
to  see  any  one  ?  "  asked  Julia. 

"Yis,  I  jist  did,  Missy,"  said  Rogers,  speaking 
from  the  other  side  of  the  door.  "  I  said  you 
had  n't  ben  down  to  breakfast,  and  I  did  n't  know 
eff  you  'd  be  coming  down  to  lunch ;  but  he  say  eff 
you  be  a-thinkin'  of  comin'  down  he  '11  jist  step  in 
and  wait." 

"  Say  that  I  have  a  bad  headache  and  shall  not 
be  down  for  half  an  hour  at  least,"  said  Julia,  not 
chancing  to  be  in  a  mood  to  soften  this  announce- 


A   CARPET  KXHHIT.  251 

ment,  but  she  knew  that  if  her  visitor  persisted  in 
staying  spite  of  such  discouragement  she  must  see 
him.  He  was  so  intimate  at  the  house  that  were 
she  to  deny  herself  altogether,  on  the  plea  that  her 
head  was  aching  too  badly,  there  would  be  noth- 
ing for  it  but  to  remain  up-stairs,  and  she  felt  just 
tlu'ii  as  if  she  needed  air.  The  whole  house  was 
not  large  enough  for  her!  She  dressed  hastily, 
therefore,  and  came  down  stairs  with  rather  a  bad 
grace. 

She  and  Dr.  Carey,  whom  she  found  standing 
near  the  centre -table  in  the  drawing-room,  in 
rather  an  uneasy  attitude,  had  had  a  polite  dispute 
during  the  German  cotillon  which  they  danced 
together  on  the  previous  evening,  and  Miss  Pres- 
cott  knew  quite  well  that  his  coming  this  morning 
was  an  overture  of  peace.  She  had  an  anxious 
feeling,  indeed,  that  it  might  signify  something 
more,  for  even  before  her  guardian's  warning  she 
had  begun  to  be  conscious  of  an  increasing  diffi- 
culty in  keeping  on  purely  society  topics  with  him, 
and  the  hostile  measures  which  she  had  adopted 
hud  been  partly  a  ruse  to  ward  off  the  evil  hour 
which  she  feared  now  was  approaching.  She  would 
not  show  the  white  feather,  however,  and,  much  as 
she  had  hoped  to  find  the  field  unoccupied,  marched 
in  and  faced  the  enemy  with  a  bold  front. 

The  preliminaries  passed  off  very  well. 

Their  dispute  chanced  to  have  been  on  the  sub- 
ject of  Ralph  Waldo  Emerson,  of  whom  Dr.  Carey 
was  a  very  warm  admirer,  and  whom  Julia  had  pro- 


252  A   CARPET  KNIGHT. 

ceeded  to  attack  upon  some  passing  mention  of  his 
name,  out  of  a  pure  spirit  of  contrariety,  little 
dreaming  that  a  great  critical  author  was,  ere  long, 
to  adopt  the  same  method  of  dealing  with  the  same 
subject. 

Dr.  Carey  now  appeared  like  a  recording  angel, 
with  two  volumes  under  his  arm,  one  of  essays,  one 
of  poems,  and  Miss  Prescott  was  soon  reduced  to 
silence  by  the  eloquent  testimony  which  he  heaped 
up  before  her  from  the  poet's  own  mouth  and  out 
of  the  very  brain  of  the  philosopher. 

She  was  quite  content  to  sit  quietly  at  her  end 
of  the  sofa  and  listen  to  all  that  there  was  to 
be  said  and  quoted  in  opposition  to  her  rashly- 
expressed  opinion.  She  even  encouraged  her  vis- 
itor to  read  much  more  than  he  had  intended, 
because,  in  the  first  place,  she  had  taste  enough 
to  enjoy  what  he  read,  and,  in  the  second,  it  was 
so  good  to  have  his  attention  thus  happily  occu- 
pied and  the  current  of  his  thoughts  turned  into 
so  safe  a  channel. 

But  Dr.  Carey  had  not  come  for  this.  It  was 
sweet  to  make  a  convert  to  one  of  his  favorite  au- 
thors, but  much  as  he  admired  him  he  had  decided 
that  there  was  some  one  else  whom  he  admired 
more,  and  on  this  occasion  Emerson  had  merely 
been  a  subterfuge  covering  a  yet  deeper  subject  of 
reflection  to  his  young  apostle. 

"  There  is  a  life  of  him,  by  Conway,  just  out," 
he  said  at  last.  "I  shall  have  to  send  it  to 
you." 


A   CARPET  KNIC1IT.  253 

Then  they  talked  of  other  things. 

Dr.  Carey  felt,  it  seemed,  that  the  limit  to  his 
stay  in  Philadelphia  had  come  at  last. 

"  I  have  been  away  much  longer  than  I  in- 
tended," he  said,  "  and  there  are  a  hundred  things 
which  need  attention  at  home." 

"Are  you  glad  to  go ? "  asked  Julia  carelessly, 
realizing  an  instant  after  she  had  spoken  that  she 
had  better  not  have  asked  the  question. 

"  I  am  not  glad,"  he  answered. 

"  Society  here  is  very  pleasant,  certainly,"  said 
Miss  Prescott,  choosing  to  give  a  broad  interpreta- 
tion to  his  words ;  "  but  we  who  live  in  it  tire  a 
little  sometimes  of  seeing  always  the  same  faces." 

"  I  was  thinking  only  of  the  friends  of  whose 
society  I  do  not  tire,"  said  Dr.  Carey. 

"  Indeed,  no.  I  often  wonder  what  you  and 
Philip  find  to  say  to  one  another  when  you  shut 
yourselves  up  for  one  of  your  long  talks,"  said 
Julia.  "  I  do  not  think  Philip  is  an  easy  person 
to  talk  to,  fond  as  I  am  of  him." 

"  I  do,  but  then  he  is  equally  tolerant  of  me, 
which  every  one  might  not  be,"  returned  Dr.  Carey, 
with  unusual  meekness.  "  You  said  just  now,"  he 
continued,  in  a  studiously  matter-of-fact  tone,  "  that 
you  sometimes  wearied  of  society  here.  Do  you 
think  you  would  be  willing  to  live  anywhere  else  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know  that  I  should,"  she  answered, 
more  seriously  than  she  had  yet  spoken.  "  To  be 
tired  of  a  thing  is  not  always  to  be  sure  of  liking  a 
change." 


A    CARPET  KNIGHT. 

"  Certainly  not,  but  it  is  apt  to  render  one  will- 
ing to  try  change." 

"  Not  if  one  knows  the  world,  I  think,"  replied 
Julia,  with  a  sigh  so  genuine  that  a  student  of 
human  nature  could  hardly  have  suppressed  a 
smile  at  the  inconsistency  of  her  apparently  bright 
prospects  with  her  sad  philosophy. 

Dr.  Carey  had  never  a  very  keen  sense  of  hu- 
mor, and  was  too  much  in  earnest  just  then  for  it 
to  have  been  stirred,  even  had  he  possessed  such  a 
faculty.  Julia  was,  he  thought,  the  most  complete 
woman  whom  he  had  ever  met.  There  was  a  de- 
pendence and  an  independence  about  her  which 
appealed  to  him  equally,  touching  two  sides  of  his 
own  character  —  his  love  of  domination  and  a 
natural  dislike  to  being  made  too  far  responsible 
for  anything.  Then  he  thought  her  handsome,  in 
rather  a  rare  style  of  beauty,  and  was  unconsciously 
impressed  by  her  social  ease  and  tact.  In  truth, 
he  did  not  know  himself  how  much  of  her  sur- 
roundings were  admired  by  him  as  a  part  of  her- 
self, but  felt  a  vague  uneasiness  at  the  thought  of 
transplanting  her,  for  her  own  sake,  which  in- 
creased the  difficulty  of  asking  her  to  become  his 
wife. 

Seeing  that  he  was  allowing  a  pause  which  might 
become  dangerous,  Julia  spoke  again. 

"  Talking  of  change,"  she  said,  "  I  think  I  should 
like  to  go  abroad." 

"  I  was  not  thinking  of  that,"  said  Dr.  Carey, 
"when  I  asked  you  if  you  would  like  to  try  a 


A  CARPET  Kxnuir.  255 


change,  but  it  was  a  stupid  remark  ;  pray  forget  it. 
I  came  to-day  prepared  to  be  selfish,  to  talk  to 
yon  of  my  own  hopes  and  wishes  rather  than  of 
yours." 

"  Oh  !  I  have  such  a  bad  headache  !  "  cried  Julia. 
"  I  am  sure  I  shall  not  be  sympathetic.  Do  not 
you  think  you  had  better  wait  for  some  other 
time?" 

"  Unfortunately  I  cannot.  I  am  obliged  to  re- 
turn to  Boston  to-morrow.  I  am  very  sorry  that 
you  have  a  headache,  but  I  must  say  my  say." 

Julia  protested  no  more.  There  was  something 
in  her  visitor's  tone  which  convinced  her,  even  more 
than  his  words,  that  protest  would  be  useless.  He 
must  say  his  say,  and  she  must  listen  to  it.  A  pas- 
sive part  was  never  an  easy  one  to  her,  and  to  be 
obliged  to  listen"  to  the  unburdening  of  another 
heart  when  her  own  was  struggling  with  a  new 
sense  of  misery  was  doubly  hard  ;  but  she  had  an 
unusual  power  of  mastering  emotion. 

She  rose  from  her  seat  on  the  sofa  and  walked 
over  to  the  piano,  which  was  open.  She  sat  down 
before  it  and  struck  a  few  soft  chords,  and  then 
turned  towards  Dr.  Carey  a  quiet,  attentive  face. 

"  I  am  listening,"  she  said,  calmly  and  very 
gravely.  "  What  is  it  that  you  have  to  say  ?  " 

Carey  rose  also.  It  was  not  half  so  easy  to 
speak  his  mind,  now  that  he  was  requested  to  do  so, 
as  he  had  thought  it  would  be  a  few  moments  be- 
fore while  she  seemed  so  unwilling  to  let  him  speak. 
His  heart  sank  at  the.  unchanging  stillness  of  her 


256  A   CARPET  KNIGHT. 

face.  He  thought  it  augured  ill  for  him,  but  he 
was  too  much  of  a  man  to  let  a  faint  heart  over- 
come him. 

"  What  I  want  to  say  is  simply  this,"  he  said, 
suddenly  resolving  to  dispense  with  all  prelimina- 
ries which  might  have  led  up  to  his  request.  He 
drew  near  and  rested  his  crossed  elbows  on  the 
piano,  while  he  bent  towards  her  in  a  determined 
attitude.  "  I  want  to  ask  you  to  be  my  wife.  Will 
you?" 

"  Do  you  think  it  is  a  question  of  will  ?  "  she 
asked. 

"  Can  you,  then  ?  " 

"  I  cannot."  The  words  were  not  said  ungently, 
but  deliberately.  A  refusal  was  never  more  unmis- 
takable since  the  memory  of  man,  but  Carey  did 
not  seem  to  heed  it.  It  has  been  hinted  that  he 
had  some  experience  of  Julia's  temperament  which 
might  incline  him  to  believe  it  the  reverse  of  docile. 
Perhaps  he  fancied  that  the  decision  of  his  manner 
had  roused  a  spirit  of  opposition. 

"  You  do  not  mean  that,"  he  urged  gently. 
"  Think  for  a  moment.  I  care  very  much  for  you. 
It  is  hardly  necessary  to  tell  you  that." 

"  Why  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Because  I  think  you  know  it.  You  must  have 
seen  how  I  was  getting  to  feel,"  he  replied,  with  a 
tremor  in  his  voice  which  he  vainly  tried  to  calm. 

Julia  shook  her  head. 

"  Did  you  not  know  what  was  coming  ?  "  asked 
Dr.  Carey. 


A   CARPET  KNKHIT.  257 

"  Indeed  I  did  not,  in  time  to  avert  it." 

"Then  will  you  not  think  now,  whether  you 
might  not  love  me  and  be  my  wife  ?  " 

"  Ah  no  !  "  she  said.     "  I  never  could." 

There  was  a  pause. 

"  You  have  not  given  me  open  encouragement,  of 
course,"  pursued  Carey  presently,  while  the  hot 
Mood  surged  into  his  face  ;  "  but "  —  he  hesitated. 
"You  must  have  known  that  your  very  contrariety 
attracted  me.  Did  you  not  ?  " 

Julia  dropped  her  eyes. 

"  It  ought  not  to  have,"  she  said,  with  a  faint 
smile. 

*•  Ah  !  But  it  did.  Everything  about  you  does. 
"NVhat  you  do,  and  what  you  leave  undone." 

"  I  am  at  least  not  responsible  for  that,"  she 
said  demurely. 

"  Julia  !  You  are  trifling  with  me." 

"  Dr.  Carey,  I  am  not,  and  I  have  not  given  you 
the  right  to  take  the  liberty  you  are  taking  in  call- 
ing me  by  my  name  !  "  She  rose  angrily  as  she 
spoke,  and  turning  from  him  stood  for  a  moment 
looking  out  of  the  window. 

"  Julia  !  Julia  !  "  he  repeated,  vehemently,  in  a 
tone  of  genuine  feeling,  which  touched  her,  in  spite 
of  her  determination  to  be  cold. 

She  faced  him  with  an  agitation  which  she  vainly 
strove  to  conceal. 

"  What  can  I  do  ?  "  she  asked,  with  trembling 
lips.     "  This  is  very  painful  for  both  of  us.    Surely 
it  haxl  better  come  to  an  end." 
IT 


258  A    CARPET  KNIGHT. 

"  Did  you  mean  what  you  said  to  me  ?  Will  you 
not  think  of  it  and  give  me  an  answer  at  some  fu- 
ture time  ?  " 

Julia  looked  perplexed.  It  happened  that  her 
guardian's  last  words  in  the  note  she  had  received 
from  him  that  morning  flashed  across  her  mind. 
"  Do  not  decide  hastily,"  he  had  said,  but  as  she 
thought  of  his  advice,  she  only  grew  more  deter- 
mined that  she  would  not  follow  it.  In  all  things 
else  she  would  take  his  counsel,  she  thought,  but 
in  this  he  was  not  fitted  to  judge  of  what  was  best 
for  her ;  then,  too,  she  had  a  duty,  a  hard  one,  to 
the  young  man  who  stood  before  her  waiting  for 
one  word  of  comfort,  which  he  would  translate  into 
a  world  of  hope. 

"  If  I  consented  to  that,"  she  said  sorrowfully, 
"  you  might  really  tell  me,  with  reason,  that  I  had 
trifled  with  you." 

"  No,  I  should  not." 

She  clasped  her  hands  together  and  her  face 
grew  pale. 

"  I  must  not  deceive  you  or  myself,"  she  said. 
"  It  is  utterly  impossible  for  me  to  answer  as  you 
wish,  now,  or  ever." 


CHAPTER  XXL 

"This  IB  truth  the  poet  sings, 
That  a  sorrow's  crown  of  sorrow  is  remembering  happier  things." 

TEXJTTSOH. 

MRS.  PERCY  was  alone.  She  was  seated  near 
the  window  in  her  own  drawing-room,  trying  to 
catch  the  failing  light  on  a  bit  of  artistic  embroi- 
dery to  which  sin-  was  applying  the  finishing  touches, 
turning  her  head  from  side  to  side  as  she  did  so, 
with  a  critical  air  which  became  her  well. 

A  small  tea-table  near  the  fire  was  spread  for 
afternoon  tea,  with  an  easy-chair  near  it,  which 
opened  its  arms  most  soothingly  to  a  weary  passer- 
by, and  a  slender-leguvd  papier-mache  one  ready 
for  a  more  energetic  guest,  but  the  tea  hour  was 
pas.>ing  and  no  one  had  come. 

Mrs.  Percy  herself  had  been  so  busy  with  her 
work  that  she  had  not  thought  of  ordering  in  the 
kettle,  and  just  as  she  was  about  to  do  so,  two  vis- 
itors were  admitted.  One  of  the  late  comers  was 
tall,  angular,  and  rather  awkward  in  his  move- 
ments ;  the  other,  somewhat  below  him  in  height, 
lithe,  active,  as  graceful  as  a  man  can  be  in  these 
modern  days  of  absence  of  all  effectiveness  from 
male  costume. 

It  chanced  that  this  visitor  entered  the  room  a 


260  A   CARPET  KNIGHT. 

little  in  advance  of  his  companion,  and  the  lady, 
who  was  just  turning  from  the  window  with  her 
work  in  her  hand,  smiled  on  him,  a  sweet,  trium- 
phant smile,  which  he  knew  how  to  interpret ;  but 
there  was  an  expression  in  his  face  which  she  did 
not  understand  until  the  taller  man  came  in  ;  then 
she  darted  a  sudden,  piercing  glance  at  Cecil  Wil- 
mott,  in  whose  hand  she  had  already  placed  her 
own,  and  said  in  a  dry  tone  :  — 

"  So  you  have  been  very  thoughtful,  and  brought 
Dr.  Lawrence  Carey  with  you  ?  " 

"Yes,  I  have  literally  brought  Carey,"  said  Cecil, 
answering  as  in  good  faith.  "  Here  is  a  man,  Mrs. 
Percy,  who  would  have  left  town  without  coming 
to  wish  you  good-by.  He  wanted  to  express  his 
regrets  through  me,  but  I  told  him  he  must  bear 
them  in  person." 

"  What,  is  Dr.  Carey  a  deserter  ?  Will  he  not 
dine  with  me  after  all  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Percy,  turning 
to  the  Bostonian  and  holding  out  to  him  the  little 
jeweled  hand  which  she  had  rather  hastily  with- 
drawn from  Wilmott. 

"  I  regret  to  say  that  I  must  return  to  Boston," 
said  Dr.  Carey  stiffly,  "and  so  cannot  have  that 
pleasure." 

"  So  soon  !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Percy,  with  a  down- 
ward inflection  of  her  expressive  voice  ;  "  but  I  am 
glad  at  least  of  this  pleasant  opportunity  of  seeing 
you.  You  must  sit  down,  and  if  Mr.  Wilmott  will 
kindly  ring  for  tea,  I  will  make  you  a  cup  which 
shall  be  good  enough  to  tempt  you  to  return  to  us/' 


A  CARPET  KNK;IIT.  261 

She  did  not  look  at  Wilmott  as  she  mentioned 
his  name,  but  made  a  gesture  towards  the  bell, 
which  he  instantly  obeyed. 

"  You  have  been  bored  with  our  stupid  city,  Dr. 
Carey,  I  am  sure,"  she  said. 

"  No,  not  exactly,"  he  answered,  studiously  non- 
committal. He  was  thinking  what  a  fool  he  had 
been  to  allow  himself  to  be  forced  into  paying  this 
visit  when  in  anything  but  a  mood  for  conversa- 
tion. He  had  only  done  so  in  consequence  of  an 
elegant  little  note  which  he  found  awaiting  him 
that  afternoon,  and  which  must  be  answered  in 
some  way. 

14  This  woman  will  not  rest  satisfied  until  she  has 
formed  some  theory  to  herself  of  why  I  am  going 
away,"  he  thought,  uneasily.  "  There  are  days  in 
a  man's  life  when  he  might  be  spared  a  cup  of  tea ! " 
Indeed,  he  had  managed  to  take  a  hasty  leave  of 
his  hostess,  Mrs.  Davering,  by  pleading  an  unex- 
pected necessity  of  starting  for  home  that  night. 

"  But  you  are  getting  very  tired  of  life  here," 
persisted  Mrs.  Percy.  "  Confess,  now,  that  you  are 
longing  to  be  once  more  in  Boston." 

"  On  the  contrary,  I  should  have  liked  to  stay 
longer,  but  found  that  I  could  not." 

Unconsciously  he  put  this  assertion  in  the  past 
tense,  poor  fellow,  endeavoring  to  give  it  force. 

"  All  the  clever  people  at  home  are  growing  im- 
portunate. I  know  how  it  is,"  said  his  tormentor, 
nodding  gayly.  "  Here  is  your  cup  of  tea." 

44  My  dear  Mrs.  Percy,  we  have  very  few  clever 


262  A    CARPET  KNIGHT. 

people  in  my  native  town,"  he  said,  carrying  the 
war  into  the  enemy's  country.  "  None  to  compare 
with  some  whom  I  have  met  in  yours." 

"  You  are  determined  to  leave  a  pleasant  impres- 
sion behind." 

"  I  am  speaking  rather  of  that  which  I  shall  take 
with  me." 

"  How  she  does  manage  to  make  every  one  pay 
her  compliments,"  thought  Cecil. 

"  The  cleverness,  you  mean  ?  "  said  the  widow  to 
"Carey.  "  Of  course  you  will.  And  does  Mr.  Wil- 
mott  go  with  you  to  Boston  ?  "  she  asked,  sweeping 
round  upon  her  other  visitor,  with  a  teacup  in  her 
hand.  "  If  you  took  him  you  would  at  least  take  a 
lively  impression." 

"I  do  not  expect  to  go  to  Boston,"  said  Cecil 
Wilmott,  to  whom  Mrs.  Percy  seemed  to  look  for 
an  answer  to  this  question.  "  Why  did  you  think 
so?" 

"Oh,  for  no  reason,"  she  said  carelessly,  "and 
so  I  fancied  it  might  be  true.  It  is  always  the 
unexpected  which  happens." 

"  I  have  been  thinking  of  going  away  for  a  week 
or  two,"  said  Cecil,  "but  only  for  a  visit  to  my 
uncle,  in  New  York." 

"Ah,  now  I  remember,"  she  said,  "that  you 
told  me  you  were  thinking  of  going  away  some- 
where, and  as  you  came  with  Dr.  Carey  I  thought 
it  possible  you  might  be  going  with  him." 

"  I  am  sorry  to  have  to  hurry  off,  Mrs.  Percy," 
said  Dr.  Carey,  who  saw  in  this  diversion  a  chance 


A   CARPET  KNIGHT.  263 

of  escape,  "but  I  have  an  engagement  with  Mr. 
Hazzard, —  to  dinner,  in  fact.  We  dine  at  the 
club,  and  I  go  afterwards  to  the  train,  so  that  I 
cannot  keep  him  waiting." 

"  Indeed  ?  Then  I  shall  not  see  you  again,"  said 
Mis.  Percy.  "It  is  too  bad  that  you  must  go," 
she  added,  with  a  faint  show  of  reluctance,  but 
even  good  acting  had  not  been  able  to  conceal 
from  his  rather  obtuse  vision  that  something  was 
going  wrong  between  herself  and  Cecil  "Wilmott. 
He  did  not  care  a  sixpence  what  it  was  so  long 
as  it  gave  him  an  opportunity  of  quitting  the  field 
in  good  order,  for  his  wounds  were  beginning  to 
cry  out,  and  he  could  not  bear  the  pain  and  smile 
much  longer. 

"  Were  you  afraid  to  come  before  ?  "  asked  Mrs. 
Percy,  in  a  mocking  tone,  as  soon  as  the  door  had 
closed  on  Dr.  Carey. 

"  There  are  very  few  things  of  which  I  am 
afraid,"  said  Wilmott. 

"  Then  I  am  not  one  of  them  ?  " 

"  Hardly."  He  took  the  hearth -brush,  as  he 
spoke,  and  began  dusting  some  stray  cinders  into 
the  fire. 

"  Are  you  afraid  of  this  little  Miss  Arnold  ?  " 

"  Why  do  you  ask  ?  " 

"  It  is  evident.     Are  you  not  running  away  ?  " 

"  I  am  not  afraid  of  her  in  the  sense  which  you 
mean." 

"  How,  then,  are  you  afraid  of  her  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  intend  to  say." 


264  A    CARPET  KNIGHT. 

"  Oh,  the  transparency  of  man !  And  you  think 
I  cannot  guess  ?  " 

"  I  think  you  cannot." 

"  Will  you  acknowledge  it  if  I  guess  rightly?  " 

"  I  will  acknowledge  nothing." 

"  Stupid !  Have  you  not  already  in  that  very 
speech  acknowledged  everything?  I  know  your 
secret.  Shall  I  tell  you  what  it  is  ?  " 

"  As  you  please."  He  was  leaning  against  the 
mantelpiece,  frowning  a  little,  as  he  looked  into  the 
fire. 

"You  give  me  permission?"  asked  the  widow 
in  a  bantering  tone.  Cecil  did  not  see  the  look  of 
indecision  which  came  over  her  face  as  she  vainly 
tried  to  read  his  own,  but  he  suspected  that  her 
questions  were  not  merely  prompted  by  the  love  of 
teasing.  She  was  deeply  interested  in  the  answers, 
and  for  some  reason  or  other  she  wanted  to  gain 
time. 

"  It  is  one  of  two  things,"  she  was  saying  to  her- 
self. "  I  will  try  the  least  likely.  His  manner  of 
denying  will  teach  me  more  than  a  confession." 

"  You  give  me  permission  ?  "  she  repeated  aloud. 

Cecil  waved  his  hand  impatiently. 

"  Then,  Mr.  Vanity,  you  are  afraid  to  stay  here 
for  fear  this  young  lady  may  grow  too  fond  of  you." 

Cecil  blushed  hotly.  "  Absurd !  "  he  said,  trying 
to  laugh. 

"Of  course  it  is  absurd.  The  truth  is  always 
much  more  absurd  than  an  invention." 

"  Some  people  have  a  genius  for  invention,"  re- 


A   CARPET  KNIGHT.  265 

plied  Cecil,  "  which  enables  them  to  reproduce  the 
absurdity  if  not  the  truth." 

"  Are  you  not  inclined  to  credit  me  with  some 
knowledge  of  you  ?  "  asked  the  lady. 

"A  little.     Why?" 

"  Well,  then,  I  will  tell  you  another  thing  about 
yourself.  You  brought  that  Bostonian  here  with 
you  this  evening  simply  because  you  were  afraid  to 
trust  yourself  with  me  alone,  and  you  would  have 
gone  with  him  when  he  went  but  that  you  were 
still  more  afraid  of  leaving  me  in  anger." 

"That  is  partly  true,"  said  Cecil;  "the  last  part." 

"  The  first  part  is  the  truest." 

"  However  positive  you  may  please  to  be,"  re- 
joined Cecil,  "  your  supposition  of  my  reason  for  de- 
ciding to  go  to  New  York  is  entirely  groundless." 

"  I  believe  it  is,"  said  Mrs.  Percy  musingly, 
"for  two  reasons.  First,  you  are  too  selfish  to 
take  so  much  trouble  for  the  sake  of  any  one ;  and 
secondly,  because  if  you  had  only  been  going  for 
that  reason  you  would  not  have  feared  to  see  me." 

"  If  I  had  feared  to  see  you,  Keta,  why  should 
I  have  come  ?  " 

"Why,  indeed? "  she  asked,  with  a  sudden  smile 
which  brought  out  all  her  dimples.  "  The  inclina- 
tion must  have  been  a  little  stronger  than  the 
dread.  I  believe  you  are  fond  of  me,  you  foolish 
boy,  but  this  new  fancy  has  taken  a  very  strong 
hold  on  you.  You  are  much  farther  gone  than 
when  I  last  saw  you." 

Cecil  did  not  speak  for  a  moment.     He  strode 


266  A   CARPET  KNIGHT. 

impatiently  up  and  down  the  room.  Presently  Mrs. 
Percy  came  to  his  side,  and  laid  her  hand  caress- 
ingly on  his  shoulde* 

"  Cheer  up,"  she  said.  "  There  is  really  no  dan- 
ger of  your  taking  that  young  woman  seriously." 

"Reta,"  he  returned,  taking  her  hand  in  his, 
"  you  have  always  been  a  very  sweet  friend  to  me." 

"  Only  a  friend  ?  "  she  asked  archly. 

"  I  wanted  you  to  be  more  to  me  once,  but  — 
you  refused  me.  That  was  a  long  while  ago,"  said 
Cecil. 

"  And  since  then  you  have  only  been  a  friend  ?  " 

"  I  have  tried  to  be.  Part  of  the  time  you  were 
bound  to  another." 

"  That  too  is  past." 

"  Ah,  yes  !  "  cried  Cecil,  dropping  her  hand  and 
renewing  his  walk  to  and  fro.  "  It  is  all  past,  and 
no  doubt  some  day  this  will  pass  also  !  " 

A  look  of  anger  and  pain  had  come  into  the  eyes 
of  Mrs.  Percy. 

"  Then  you  really  have  decided  that  it  is  this  girl 
whom  you  care  for?"  she  asked,  in  a  bitter  tone,  out 
of  which  she  vainly  tried  to  put  all  feeling.  She 
knew  it  was  an  unwise  question,  and  would  have 
recalled  it  the  moment  after  she  had  spoken. 

Cecil  looked  at  her  regretfully. 

"  Why  will  you  make  me  say  such  things  ?"  he 
said.  "  I  have  not  decided  ;  it  has  been  decided  for 
me  —  by  the  fates,  I  suppose.  I  had  better  say 
good-by,  Reta."  She  had  sunk  down  on  a  low  seat 
before  the  fire,  with  her  face  turned  from  him. 


A   CARPET  KNIGHT.  267 

She  neither  moved  nor  answered  for  a  moment,  and 
for  a  moment  Cecil  stood  before  her,  waiting.  Then 
he  walked  over  to  a  corner  table  where  he  had  left 
his  hat,  and  coming  back  held  out  his  hand. 

"  Good-by,"  he  said  again. 

"  Good-by,"  she  answered  softly,  without  turning 
her  head  towards  him  or  seeming  to  see  the  out- 
stretched hand.  "  I  suppose  I  shall  hardly  see  you 
•gain." 

"  Oh  dear,  yes ;  you  will  see  me  to-night,  if  you 
go  to  Mrs.  Waverley's,"  replied  Cecil,  cheerfully. 
"  I  have  no  doubt  I  shall  take  you  in  to  dinner." 

"  Then  you  are  not  to  leave  town  immediately?  " 
she  exclaimed,  in  an  altered  tone. 

"  I  hardly  know,"  he  said.  "  Soon,  if  not  imme- 
diately." 

She  turned  and  looked  up  into  his  face.  "  Is 
it  to  be  a  last  resort  ?  "  she  asked,  and  this  time, 
she  laid  her  hand  in  his. 

"  Perhaps,"  he  answered,  and  so  he  left  her. 


CHAPTEK  XXIL 

"  Where  passion  leads,  or  prudence  points  the  way." 

ROBKBT  LOWTH. 

• 

CECIL  left  Mrs.  Percy  in  a  curious  frame  of  mind, 
and  he  concluded  while  he  was  dressing  for  Mrs. 
Waverley's  dinner  that  he  had  better  start  for  New 
York  the  next  day.  Chance  would  have  it  that  he 
was  seated  beside  Mrs.  Percy  at  dinner,  even  as  he 
had  suggested  that  he  might  be ;  but  the  lady's 
mood  was  quite  changed  since  he  had  left  her  in  the 
dusk  and  the  firelight. 

She  was  more  brilliant  than  usual  —  quite  the 
centre  of  admiration ;  but  she  took  no  more  notice 
of  Cecil,  than  if  he  had  been  the  most  indifferent 
of  her  acquaintances.  As  for  Wilmott,  he  was  un- 
usually silent.  He  had  one  more  farewell  visit  to 
pay,  to  which  he  looked  forward  with  mingled  feel- 
ings of  pleasure  and  apprehension,  and  he  was  try- 
ing to  decide  that  it  would  be  wiser  not  to  pay  it. 
Having  determined  to  run  away,  why  test  his  reso- 
lution by  another  interview  with  the  siren  from 
whom  he  had  resolved  to  fly  ?  asked  Prudence. 
To  which  Cecil  answered  that  it  would  be  treating 
the  members  of  his  uncle's  household  very  cava- 
lierly if  he  went  without  "  saying  good-by  "  to 
them,  and  this  flimsy  excuse  was  all  that  his  disin- 
clination to  such  a  course  required  to  condemn  it. 


A  CARPET  KNIGUT.  269 

His  nature  was  averse  to  prudence,  and  much 
more  ready  to  rush  hastily  into  action  than  to  bear 
patiently  the  results  of  its  own  temerity.  He  went 
to  dinner  in  a  state  of  indecision  as  to  whether  he 
should  or  should  not  depart  the  next  morning  with- 
out seeing  Edith  Arnold  again,  but  when  dessert 
was  served  his  mind  was  made  up.  He  excused 
himself  from  rejoining  the  ladies,  and  was  soon  on 
the  way  to  Meredith  Square. 

As  ho  neared  the  house  he  was  determining  to 
avoid  anything  like  a  tete-a-tete  with  Miss  Arnold, 
which  he  felt  would  hardly  be  a  wise  experiment, 
but  to  treat  her  in  a  kindly,  friendly  manner  which 
should  harmonize,  as  far  as  might  be,  the  slight  in- 
consistencies of  conduct  of  which  he  acknowledged 
himself  guilty  on  former  occasions. 

Rogers,  who  had  received  instructions  that  the 
ladies  would  see  no  one  that  evening,  took  his  time 
about  answering  the  bell. 

"  No,  sar.  Miss  Prescott,  she  got  a  very  bad 
headache  and  can't  come  down  no  more  to-night ; 
and  Miss  Arnold,  she  's  with  her ;  and  Miss  Ruth- 
ven,  she  's  gone  out  with  young  Master  Philip  to  a 
Star  Lecture.  There  ain't  nobody  at  home,  nor 
reaxly  to  see  nobody !  "  concluded  that  worthy  negro. 

"Has  Miss  Arnold  a  bad  headache?"  asked 
Wiliuott. 

"  Well  —  I  ain't  heered  about  that,  sar,"  said 
Rogers,  looking  puzzled. 

"  Take  up  my  card  to  Miss  Arnold,"  said  Wil- 
mott,  in  a  clear,  decided  tone  which  surprised  him- 


270  A   CARPET  KNIGHT. 

self,  "  and  say  that  I  should  like  to  see  her  if  she 
can  leave  Miss  Prescott  for  a  little  while,  as  I  am 
going  out  of  town  to-niorrow." 

It  was  not  until  the  reluctant  Mercury  had  de- 
parted with  his  message,  and  he  was  looking  dream- 
ily into  the  library  fire,  that  Wilmott  recollected 
his  prudent  resolve  to  avoid  a  tete-a-tete.  He 
pulled  himself  together  with  a  start,  and  then  re- 
membered that  it  was  too  late  now  to  draw  back, 
but  he  could  at  least  keep  the  other  half  of  his  res- 
olution. He  could  be  as  kindly  and  as  friendly  as 
he  pleased.  Five  minutes  elapsed  after  he  had 
come  to  this  conclusion,  and  he  began  to  wonder 
whether  after  all  he  was  to  have  an  opportunity  of 
trying  it.  Then  the  door  opened  quietly  and 
Edith  came  in.  • 

She  came  slowly,  putting  up  her  hand  as  she  did 
so  to  shade  her  eyes  from  the  light.  Her  face  had 
that  pale  tint  which  often  conies  of  having  been 
some  time  in  a  darkened  room,  and  Cecil  fancied 
that  there  was  a  slightly  tremulous  movement  about 
the  corners  of  her  mouth.  Her  hand,  too,  trem- 
bled just  a  little,  he  thought,  as  he  took  it  in  his, 
but  she  withdrew  it  almost  instantly,  so  that  he  had 
not  time  to  be  sure. 

Could  it  be  possible,  he  thought,  that  this  shrink- 
ing little  girl  was  the  scornful  young  lady  who  had 
turned  upon  him  so  disdainfully  as  she  uttered  her 
parting  words  at  the  Assembly  ?  Or,  again,  was 
this  quietly  moving  figure  the  same  which  he  had 
seen  so  full  of  life  and  animation,  on  the  steps 


A  CARPET  KNIGHT.  271 

of  the  Academy  that  morning  ?  What  had  caused 
the  change  ?  It  was  an  unwise  subject  of  sj>ecu- 
latiou ;  and  a  silence,  had  fallen  between  them, 
after  the  first  polite  interchange  of  greeting,  which 
was  equally  unfortunate.  Edith  was  the  first  to 
break  it. 

"  I  am  sorry  to  hear  that  you  are  going  away," 
she  said. 

"  It  is  a  bore  to  have  to  go  just  now,"  replied 
Cecil. 

"  Because  there  is  so  much  that  is  pleasant  going 
on  at  home,  I  suppose."  Her  manner  was  quiet 
and  cold. 

'•  Have  you  forgiven  me  for  being  so  disagreea- 
ble at  the  Assembly  last  evening  ?  "  asked  Cecil, 
abruptly. 

"  It  is  I  who  should  ask  to  be  forgiven,"  she  said, 
with  a  smile  and  a  faint  blush. 

"  Perhaps  you  should.  I  think  you  were  a  little 
hard  on  me  in  your  thoughts,"  rejoined  Cecil,  "but 
I  erred  in  speech.  In  fact,  I  made  an  ass  of  my- 
self, and  quite  deserved  anything  you  might  choose 
to  think." 

She  did  not  answer  for  a  moment,  and  then  she 
changed  the  subject.  "Where  are  you  going?" 
she  asked. 

She  had  seated  herself  in  a  low  chair  with  a  high 
carved  back,  on  the  other  side  of  the  fire-place,  just 
opposite  to  him,  and  her  face  was  half  turned  from 
him,  bringing  the  delicate  outline  of  her  features 
into  distinct  relief  against  the  dark  marble  mantel- 
piece. 


272  A  CARPET  KNIGHT. 

Cecil  noticed  that  she  wore  the  same  dark  green 
traveling:  dress  in  which  he  had  first  seen  her. 

o 

Somehow  he  fancied  that  there  was  a  significance 
in  this  little  fact. 

"  I  am  going  to  New  York  to  stay  with  my  un- 
cle," he  said,  in  answer  to  her  question. 

"  And  why  do  you  go  now,  since  you  say  that 
you  would  find  it  pleasanter  to  stay  at  home  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know."  He  took  a  little  carved 
wooden  paper-knife  from  the  table  and  began  play- 
ing with  it. 

"  I  think  you  had  been  with  your  uncle  in  New 
York  when  I  first  met  you,"  said  Edith. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Cecil.  "  Did  you  see  me  when 
I  first  saw  you  ?  " 

She  smiled. 

"  I  fancy  you  did,  and  yet  through  the  whole  of 
that  dreary  detention  you  never  gave  me  a  chance 
to  say  a  word  to  you." 

A  slight  frown  crossed  her  brow.  She  raised 
her  head  a  little.  "  No,"  she  replied  quietly. 

Cecil  laughed  merrily  at  her  little  air  of  offended 
dignity.  "  You  evidently  do  not  think  it  your 
duty  to  amuse  chance  acquaintances  in  railway 
trains,"  he  said.  "  Your  manner  now  reminds  me 
forcibly  of  the  reserve  in  which  you  wrapped  your- 
self on  that  first  evening.  Even  after  I  told  you 
who  I  was,  I  had  to  struggle  with  all  my  might  to 
elicit  the  interesting  bits  of  information  which  you 
strove  so  tenaciously  to  withhold." 

"  I  do  not  think  I  succeeded  very  well,"  said 
Edith,  demurely. 


A   CARPET  KNIGHT.  273 

"  No,  not  very,"  replied  Cecil.  "  That  sort  of 
thing  does  not  go  dowii  with  me." 

"  If  I  should  not  see  you  again,"  she  said  gravely, 
"  I  shall  not  forget  how  kind  you  were  in  befriend- 
ing me  on  the  first  evening  of  iny  arrival." 

"  Why  should  you  think  that  you  will  not  see 
me  again  ? "  he  asked  with  a  sudden  change  of 
tone.  "  Do  you  expect  to  be  gone  before  my  re- 
turn from  New  York  ?  " 

"  That  depends  upon  how  long  you  stay  there," 
returned  Edith,  laughing. 

"  It  also  depends  upon  how  long  you  stay  here." 

"  I  cannot  tell  you  that,"  she  answered. 

There  was  a  pause,  in  which  she  rose.  "  I  wish 
you  a  very  pleasant  journey,"  she  said,  and  held  out 
her  hand  to  Cecil,  who  had  also  risen.  Her  easy, 
cordial  manner  exasperated  him  to  the  last  degree. 

"  You  seem  in  a  great  hurry  to  get  rid  of  me," 
he  remarked. 

"  Not  at  all,"  she  answered  blandly.  "  I  fancied 
that  you  were  ready  to  go." 

She  reseated  herself  as  she  spoke,  opened  a  little 
leather  wallet  which  hung  at  her  side,  and  took  out 
some  fine  crochet  work  in  colored  silk,  through 
which  she  began  plying  the  needle  diligently. 

Cecil  leaned  against  the  mantel  shelf  in  gloomy 
silence.  As  he  watched  her  busy  fingers,  her  head 
slightly  bent,  and  the  composed  expression  of  her 
face,  it  suddenly  occurred  to  him  that  the  situation 
which  he  had  anticipated  was  reversed  in  this  in- 
terview. 

18 


274  A   CARPET  KNIGHT. 

It  was  Edith  who  was  being  kindly  and  sedu- 
lously friendly,  and  he  who  was  wondering  at  the 
change  in  her  and  inwardly  chafing  at  its  incon- 
sistency with  certain  shy,  sweet  glances  which  he 
remembered  only  too  distinctly. 

Had  she  never  really  cared  for  him  at  all  then  ? 
Had  she  felt  no  response  to  the  attraction  which 
had  been  so  strong  with  him  ?  Common  sense 
should  have  told  him  to  rejoice  in  the  certainty 
that  his  idle  fancy  had  hurt  no  one,  but  common 
sense  was  silent.  He  was  alive  to  no  feeling  but 
an  irresistible  desire  to  make  her  care,  almost  to 
make  her  suffer  for  the  pain  which  he  was  feeling, 
as  the  last  moments  flew  past  in  which  he  could  be 
with  her. 

"  What  are  you  making  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  A  little  silk  purse,"  she  answered  in  a  prac- 
tical tone,  without  looking  up. 

"  It  is  very  pretty.     May  I  see  it  ?  " 

As  he  spoke,  he  held  out  his  hand,  which  touched 
hers  as  he  took  it. 

"  For  whom  are  you  making  this  ?  " 

She  smiled,  and  looked  up  archly. 

"  Suppose  that  I  should  tell  you,  for  Mr.  Drum 
Kettleby?" 

"  I  should  not  believe  you." 

"  Then,  as  I  do  not  like  being  doubted,  you  must 
guess  for  whom." 

"  Will  you  not  give  it  to  me  ?  "  he  asked,  sur- 
prised at  his  own  boldness. 

She  laughed.  "The  purse  is  for  my  sister," 
she  said. 


A   CARPET  KNIGHT.  275 

"  Then  will  you  not  make  one  for  me  ?  Ig  it  too 
much  to  ask  ?  " 

She  did  not  answer  for  a  moment,  but  lifted  a 
fire  screen  from  the  table  and  held  it  before  her 
face. 

"  I  want  to  take  something  to  my  sister  made 
with  my  own  hands,  to  show  that  I  have  thought 
of  her  while  I  have  been  away,"  she  said,  at  last. 

"  And  you  do  not  want  to  give  me  anything  to 
show  that  you  have  thought  of  me  ?  " 

"  I  have  thought  of  my  sister." 

"  But  not  of  me !  "  he  returned,  with  a  bitter- 
ness which  startled  her. 

"  I  have  not  thought  of  making  you  a  purse," 
she  replied,  quietly. 

He  handed  it  back  to  her  and  turned  away. 

"  I  wish  I  had  never  thought  of  you,"  he  said. 

She  glanced  up  at  him  shyly,  with  one  of  her  old 
appealing  looks. 

"  Would  you  really  care  for  a  purse  if  I  made 
it?"  she  asked. 

"  You  know  I  would !  "  he  cried  vehemently. 
"  There  is  nothing  I  want  so  much." 

She  was  surprised  at  the  eager,  triumphant  light 
in  his  eyes. 

"  Do  you  promise  to  make  it  for  me  ?  "  he  con- 
tinued. She  smiled  and  nodded. 

"  Give  me  your  hand  on  it,  then  !  " 

She  drew  back  a  little.  She  was  frightened,  she 
hardly  knew  why,  he  seemed  by  his  manner  to 
make  so  much  of  so  little. 


276  A   CARPET  KNIGHT. 

"  I  will  certainly  keep  my  promise,"  she  said, 
without  seeming  to  notice  the  hand  which  he  held 
out  to  her. 

But  Cecil  was  in  no  mood  to  be  gainsaid.  A 
moment  before  he  had  been  profoundly  discour- 
aged. Now  he  once  more  commanded  the  situation. 

"  If  you  will  not  give  me  your  hand,"  he  said, 
"  I  must  know  the  reason.  Have  I  done  anything 
to  offend  you  ?  "  He  bent  over  as  he  spoke  and 
looked  earnestly  into  her  face.  She  grew  very 
pale. 

"  I  am  not  offended,"  she  answered  faintly,  and 
a  shy,  frightened  look  came  into  her  eyes. 

Cecil  drew  a  long  sigh  of  relief,  and  possessed 
himself  of  one  of  her  hands  without  further  ques- 
tion. She  tried  to  withdraw  it,  and  failing,  started 
to  her  feet,  but  Cecil  still  held  the  hand  fast  be- 
tween both  his  own. 

"  Edith !  "  he  whispered.    "  Edith !  I  love  you." 

"  Hush  !  "  she  said,  while  the  color  began  to  re- 
turn to  her  cheeks.  "  You  must  not  say  that." 

"  I  must  and  I  will.  I  love  you  !  I  love  you !  " 
he  cried,  vehemently.  "  Do  you  love  me  ?  " 

She  was  silent,  for  she  was  making  a  gallant 
struggle  for  self-possession. 

"  You  did  not  come  here  to  say  this,"  she  re- 
plied, at  last. 

"  Perhaps  not,"  he  answered,  "  but  what  of  that  ? 
What  difference  does  it  make  whether  I  meant  to 
tell  you  ?  Do  you  not  believe  me  when  I  say  I  love 
you?" 


A   CARPET  KNIU1IT.  277 

"  It  makes  all  the  difference,"  said  Edith,  an- 
swering the  first  part  of  his  question  only.  Again 
she  tried  to  draw  away  her  hand,  and  this  time  suc- 
ceeded. 

"  If  you  did  not  mean  to  tell  me,"  she  proceeded 
quietly,  "  it  is  best  you  should  not  do  so." 

"  But  I  have  told  you,"  he  said.  "  What  is 
done  cannot  be  undone." 

"  Yes,  it  can,"  she  answered  quickly ;  "  or,  rather, 
it  is  not  done,  since  you  did  not  mean  to  do  it." 

"  It  is,"  he  replied,  firmly.  "  I  have  spoken  and 
you  have  heard  me,  and  I  must  hear  my  answer. 
Do  you  love  me  ?  " 

She  had  been  drawing  away  unconsciously,  step 
by  step,  and  he  following  her,  until  she  had  reached 
the  corner  of  the  room  nearest  the  fire-place.  She 
placed  her  hands  on  the  back  of  a  tall  old-fashioned 
chair  near  the  window,  and  drew  it  in  front  of  her 
for  support,  under  a  sudden  sense  of  weakness 
which  had  come  upon  her  rather  than  to  protect 
herself  against  him,  but  he  misunderstood  the  ac- 
tion. 

He  paused  instantly,  and  folded  his  arms  across 
his  breast. 

"  I  await  your  decision,"  he  said.  There  was  a 
long  silence.  Cecil  had  dropped  his  eyes  and  did 
not  see  the  effort  which  she  made  several  times  to 
answer  him.  At  last  the  words  came  very  slowly. 

"You  may  think  it  strange,"  she  murmured, 
"  when  I  tell  you  that  I  might  have  cared  for  you, 
but  it  is  all  that  I  can  say." 


278  A   CARPET  KNIGHT. 

"  You  mean,  then,  that  you  do  not  ?  "  he  asked, 
raising  his  eyes  and  fixing  them  on  hers. 

"  That  is  all  I  can  say,"  she  repeated. 

"  But  you  must  say  more,"  said  Cecil.  "  Do 
you  mean  that  you  do  not  care  for  me  ?  " 

"  No,"  she  answered,  faintly. 

"Not  at  all?" 

"  Not  in  that  way." 

"  Then  how  do  you  know  you  might  have 
cared  ? " 

She  was  silent. 

"  Believe  me,"  he  pleaded,  "  you  must  care  a  lit- 
tle, or  you  could  not  be  sure  of  that." 

"  I  only  know,"  said  Edith,  in  a  low  voice  which 
trembled  very  slightly,  "  that  I  do  not  love  and 
trust  you  as  I  should  do  the  man  I  married." 

"  Why  not  ?  "  he  asked,  almost  with  defiance. 

"  It  may  be,"  she  replied,  more  firmly,  "  because 
you  have  not  sought  my  love." 

"  What  can  you  mean  !  "  cried  Cecil.  "  Surely 
I  have.  Am  I  not  seeking  it  now  ?  " 

"  For  the  moment  you  are." 

"  For  my  whole  life,  Edith  !  Why  will  you  be 
so  cruel ?  " 

"  Do  you  think  me  quite  blind,"  she  asked,  "  and 
quite  stupid  ?  Do  you  think  I  have  not  seen  how 
you  tried  not  to  care  for  me  ?  " 

"  What  difference  does  that  make,  even  if  it  be 
true  ?  "  he  answered  slowly.  "  Suppose  that  I  tried 
not  to  care  and  yet  did  care  in  spite  of  it,  does  not 
that  prove  that  my  love  was  all  the  stronger  ?  " 


A   CARPET  KNIGHT.  279 

"  How  can  that  be  ?  "  she  answered.  "  You  ac- 
knowledged a  little  while  ago  that  you  did  not 
come  into  this  room  even  intending  to  tell  me  that 
you  loved  me !  " 

"  I  am  beginning  to  think  that  you  never  have 
cared !  "  he  exclaimed  bitterly.  "  You  do  not 
know  what  it  is  to  love  or  you  would  think  that 
of  as  little  consequence  as  I  do." 

"  I  certainly  think  it  of  consequence,"  she  said. 

"  Then  you  doubt  my  love  ?  " 

"  Ah,  no !  "  she  cried,  impulsively,  pained  by 
the  pain  his  face  and  voice  expressed.  "  It  is  not 
that  "  — 

He  drew  a  step  nearer  and  held  out  his  arms, 
but  still  she  shrank  away  from  him. 

"  It  is  not  that  I  doubt  it,"  she  said  desperately, 
"  but  that  your  love  does  not  seem  supported  by 
any  strength  of  purpose." 

"  And  so  you  do  not  trust  it  ?  " 

"No." 

Cecil  turned  without  a  word  and  left  the  room. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

"  Who  is  tliis  that  darkeneth  counsel  by  words  without  knowledge?  "  — 
OLD  TESTAMENT. 

"  WELL,  you  know,  dear,  we  must  give  some- 
thing." 

"  Must  we  ?  " 

"  Oh  !  How  stupid  men  are  !  "  cried  Mrs.  Daver- 
ing,  looking  hard  at  a  wax  candle  which  was  stuck 
into  a  curiously  wrought  sconce  attached  to  her 
writing  table.  On  the  table  lay  some  note-paper 
and  a  pen  with  a  fanciful  penholder,  beside  an 
ornamental  inkstand.  They  all  looked  as  if  they 
had  just  come  out  of  a  shop,  for  Mrs.  Davering  did 
not  write  very  often. 

Mr.  Davering  stood  on  the  hearth-rug  in  his 
wife's  boudoir.  He  was  indeed  warming  his  coat 
tails,  but  with  none  of  that  truculent  air  of  sov- 
ereignty which  one  associates  with  the  action.  He 
looked  meek,  on  the  contrary,  and  rather  dispirited, 
although  there  was  nothing  despicable  in  his  meek- 
ness. It  evidently  only  arose  from  the  depression 
with  which  a  gentle  nature  regards  the  decision  of 
another  which  he  does  not  share  nor  disagree  from 
strongly  enough  to  oppose. 

"  Why  must  we  give  something  ?  "  he  ventured 
to  ask. 


A   CARPET  KNIGHT.  281 

"  There  are  such  simple  reasons,"  said  his  wife, 
disdainfully,  "  that  I  should  think  even  you  would 
see  them."  She  drew  an  impatient  sigh,  and  then, 
as  though  resigning  herself  to  the  inevitable,  began 
to  explain.  "  What  I  propose  to  give  in  this  in- 
stance," she  concluded,  "  is  something  a  little  dif- 
ferent from  the  rest  of  the  world.  I  think  of 
having  private  theatricals,  and  as  it  seems  hardly 
worth  while  to  turn  the  drawing-rooms  upside  down, 
I  think  of  taking  the  little  theatre,  which  will  hold 
my  guests  quite  comfortably,  and  then  letting  them 
come  home  to  supper." 

"  But,  Helen,  I  have  quite  a  feeling  about  pri- 
vate theatricals — and  who  will  act  in  them?" 
asked  Mr.  Davering  in  dismay. 

"  Do  not  trouble  yourself  about  that,  Buchanan," 
said  his  wife,  nodding  her  head  contentedly.  She 
had  indeed  talked  herself  into  quite  a  good  humor, 
and  Mr.  Davering  realized  the  inutility  of  any 
further  protest.  He  therefore  left  her  ;  brooding, 
as  he  went,  on  how  much  he  had  always  disliked 
private  theatricals,  and  how  well  Mrs.  Davering 
knew  it. 

Fate  meanwhile  was  being  kinder  than  he  hoped ; 
for  when  his  wife  opened  the  answer  to  an  elegant 
little  note  which  she  proceeded  after  this  conversa- 
tion to  dispatch  to  Julia,  she  found  to  her  dismay 
that  Miss  Prescott  declined  taking  part  in  any 
theatricals. 

Being  aware  that  her  whole  object  in  proposing 
this  troublesome  form  of  amusement  had  really 


282  A   CARPET  KNIGHT. 

been  for  the  sake  of  bringing  Julia  and  her  son 
Charley  together,  one  may  imagine  that  for  the 
moment  Mrs.  Davering  was  completely  crushed. 
Indeed  Mrs.  Wilmott,  who  chanced  to  drop  in  for 
a  neighborly  chat  in  the  course  of  the  afternoon, 
found  her  friend  in  an  unusual  state  of  depression. 

"  I  can't  think  what  has  come  over  Julia,"  she 
said,  after  confessing  her  grievance. 

"I  do  not  think  that  Julia  has  been  looking 
at  all  well  lately,"  replied  Mrs.  Wilmott  kindly. 
"  She  always  misses  Algernon  when  he  leaves  her, 
and  you  know  he  is  in  Washington  now,  with  the 
possibility  of  a  longer  absence." 

"  That  is  another  person  whom  I  counted  on  to 
help  me  with  my  play ! "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Daver- 
ing. 

Mrs.  Wilmott  shook  her  head  with  an  air  of 
commiseration  which  was  very  aggravating  to  IVtrs. 
Davering  in  her  present  vexed  mood.  "I  am 
afraid,  Helen,  you  will  hardly  get  Algernon  to  in- 
terest himself  in  the  matter  just  now.  He  is  a 
good  deal  taken  up  with  some  important  lawsuit 
which  has  required  his  presence  in  Washington, 
and  it  is  just  possible  may  take  him  abroad.  I  had 
a  letter  from  him  yesterday  morning  asking  me 
whether  I  should  be  willing  to  go  to  Heronsford 
and  take  Charlotte,  in  case  he  had  to  be  away 
through  the  summer.  You  know  Aunt  Ruthven 
always  goes  back  to  her  own  house  in  Germantown 
in  the  spring,  and  he  is  anxious  to  secure  suitable 
guardianship  and  cheerful  surroundings  for  Julia. 


i   '•. i ///'/;/   KM<;IIT.  283 

I  wrote  at  once  to  say  that  I  would  do  so  with 
much  pleasure." 

Mrs.  Wilmott  ijiiite  forgot  at  the  moment  that 
she  had  been  specially  requested  not  to  communi- 
cate this  piece  of  information  to  any  one  until  Mr. 
Diayton's  return.  There  was  something  so  pleasant 
in  having  the  opportunity  to  disclose  in  an  easy  off- 
hand way  the  fact  that  she  had  been  asked  as  a 
favor  to  go  to  Ileronsford.  It  would  .prevent 
there  being  any  danger  of  Mrs.  Davering's  suppos- 
ing that  her  presence  and  Charlotte's  there  was 
merely  an  act  of  Christian  kindness  from  Algernon, 
to  save  them  expense  through  the  warm  weather 
when  town  would  be  unbearable. 

Mrs.  Wilmott  was  so  often  the  recipient  of  Chris- 
tian kindness  that  she  was  sensitive  upon  the  sub- 
ject, and  at  this  moment  a  most  brilliant  plan  oc- 
curred to  her.  "  I  have  it !  "  she  exclaimed  with 
kindling  interest ;  "  why  should  we  not  get  up  a  lit- 
tle parlor  opera,  instead  of  a  play  ?  We  could  find 
one  with  just  two  or  three  characters,  and  perhaps 
Julia  would  play  the  accompaniment." 

"  Who  would  sing  in  it  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Davering. 

"  Well  —  there  is  Charley.  He  has  really  a  very 
fair  baritone,  and  Cecil  sings  a  little." 

"  But  who  would  sustain  the  role  of  the  heroine?  " 

"  I  do  not  know  of  any  one  who  would  both  sing 
and  act  well,  except  Mrs.  Percy,"  said  Mrs.  Wil- 
mott, thoughtfully. 

"  Dear  me  !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Davering.  "  How 
tired  one  gets  of  Mrs.  Percy.  She  is  always  every- 


284  A   CARPET  KNIGHT. 

where.  I  am  quite  sick  of  her  affected  French 
songs  !  I  can't  think  why  they  take  so." 

"  She  has  a  great  deal  of  dramatic  talent,"  said 
Mrs.  Wilmott,  "although  I  confess  I  never  like 
to  see  too  much  of  that  sort  of  tiring  in  private  life. 
It  makes  one  feel  as  if  one  could  not  tell  what  was 
real  about  a  person,  and  how  much  assumed  for  the 
occasion." 

"  Well,  to  do  her  justice,  she  did  not  assume  to 
care  when  her  husband  died,"  retorted  Mrs.  Daver- 
ring. 

"  What  woidd  you  have  ?  She  had  married  for 
money,  and  with  his  removal  disappeared  the  only 
obstacle  to  her  enjoyment  of  it ;  but  she  is  a  very 
fascinating  woman  to  men,"  said  Cecil's  mother, 
with  a  little  sigh. 

"  After  all  it  is  only  her  voice,  which  is  a  matter 
of  the  least  consequence  to  me  at  present,"  said 
Mrs.  Davering  majestically. 

She  walked  over  to  the  bell,  and  after  ringing 
for"  the  carriage,  stood  still  a  moment,  pleasing 
herself  with  the  idea  that  a  "  parlor  opera  "  would 
sound  very  different  from  private  theatricals  to 
Mr.  Davering.  "  I  will  see  Julia  to-morrow,  and 
ask  her  about  the  accompaniment,"  she  said  aloud. 
"  I  do  wish  Cecil  were  to  be  here  to  arrange  things 
for  me.  I  could  make  him  stage  manager,  if  he 
did  not  feel  equal  to  singing." 

"  It  is  very  possible  that  Cecil  may  return  in 
two  weeks,"  said  his  mother,  with  a  proud  sense  of 
her  son's  importance.  "  He  did  not  expect  to  stay 


A   CARPET  KNIGHT.  285 

longer  than  that.  I  will  write  to  him  and  tell  him 
of  your  plan,  if  you  like,  and  urge  his  coming  as 
soon  as  he  can." 

"  Do.  That  is  a  kind  woman  ;  and  now  come 
with  me  for  a  turn  in  the  Park  and  I  will  drop  you 
at  home,  on  my  way  to  call  on  Mrs.  Percy ;  I  shall 
find  her  in  a  little  after  five  o'clock." 

When  she  went  to  call  on  Julia  the  next  day 
Mrs.  Davering  was  told  that  Miss  Ruthven  and 
M: -s  Arnold  were  out  and  Miss  Prescott  was  en- 
gaged, but  on  sending  in  her  card,  with  a  particu- 
lar request  that  she  might  be  allowed  to  see  Miss 
Prescott,  was  ushered  into  the  library,  where  she 
found  Julia  sitting  alone. 

She  did  not  look  well.  Mrs.  Davering  was  im- 
pressed with  this  fact,  and  would  have  remarked 
upon  it  at  once,  but  for  something  cold  and  rather 
constrained  in  Julia's  manner  to  herself,  which 
rendered  her  a  little  less  at  her  ease  than  usual. 

The  truth  was  that,  as  sometimes  happened  to 
this  lady,  in  the  absorption  of  her  own  affairs  she 
had  temporarily  forgotten  her  keen  interest  in 
those  of  others,  and  until  thus  reminded  of  it,  both 
the  cause  of  the  somewhat  formal  terms  on  which 
she  and  Miss  Prescott  had  remained  ever  since 
Mrs.  Percy's  party,  and  the  formality  itself  had 
quite  escaped  her  memory. 

Now,  however,  as  she  sat  opposite  to  Julia  in 
Mr.  Drayton's  library,  the  conversation  of  that 
evening  came  back  to  her  quite  distinctly,  and  she 
recalled  how  indignant  Julia  had  been ;  but  she 


286  A   CARPET  KNIGHT. 

kept  her  thoughts  to  herself  for  the  moment,  and 
rushed  into  the  details  of  her  new  project. 

Julia  listened,  but  with  little  display  of  interest ; 
and  when  Mrs.  Davering  at  length  preferred  her 
request  that  she  would  play  the  accompaniment 
for  the  parlor  opera,  said  quietly  that  she  was  sorry 
that  she  could  not  grant  it. 

"  Are  you  afraid  you  would  be  nervous  at  play- 
ing before  so  many  people  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Davering 
anxiously. 

"  It  is  not  so  much  that,"  said  Julia  calmly ;  "  but 
I  do  not  wish  to  undertake  anything  of  the  kind 
at  present." 

"You  are  really  not  looking  well,"  said  Mrs. 
Davering,  changing  her  tone  to  one  of  patronage ; 
"  but  I  am  sure  you  will  regret  your  decision,  for  it 
is  best  to  keep  up  in  these  cases,  no  matter  how 
badly  one  may  be  feeling." 

"  Thank  you,  I  am  quite  well,"  said  Julia.  "  I 
am  only  suffering  the  reaction  from  a  headache." 

"  That  is  all  you  will  acknowledge,  of  course," 
said  Mrs.  Davering,  who,  feeling  herself  thwarted 
in  her  pet  scheme,  was  determined  at  least  to  have 
the  satisfaction  of  firing  one  parting  shot ;  "  but  I 
was  really  sorry  to  hear  of  Mr.  Drayton's  proposed 
departure.  If  you  felt  so  badly  at  the  idea  of  your 
guardian's  marrying,  my  dear,  how  must  you  feel 
at  the  prospect  of  his  being  away  all  summer  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Drayton  has  only  gone  to  Washington  a 
day  or  two  on  business,"  said  Julia  proudly. 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  know,"  said  Mrs.  Davering.    "  I  did 


A   CARPET  KXIGHT.  287 

not  mean  now,  of  course.  I  meant  when  he  crosses 
the  ocean  for  two  or  three  months.  It  will  really 
be  hard  on  you,  clear,  to  be  left  at  home.  I  re- 
meinlx-r  \\lum  you  were  ill  abroad  and  missed  see- 
ing so  many  of  the  sights,  you  were  always  talking 
of  the  things  you  would  see  the  next  time  Mr. 
Drayton  took  you  to  Europe."  The  shot  had  hit 
the  mark.  Julia  grew  quite  white  for  a  moment 
and  her  lips  quivered  ;  then  she  made  a  great  effort 
at  self-conquest,  and  rose  as  though  to  usher  her 
visitor  politely  from  the  room. 

Mrs.  Davering,  although  she  was  standing  and 
had  proposed  to  go,  was  not  in  any  hurry  about  it, 
but  Julia  felt  that  she  could  not  endure  inactively 
what  she  was  suffering.  She  must  do  or  say  some- 
thing. What  she  said  was  :  — 

"  Helen,  you  were  very  kind  to  me  at  that  time 
which  you  have  just  spoken  of,  when  I  was  ill,  and 
I  have  considered  you  until  lately  as  a  friend  ;  but 
it  was  a  friendship  born  of  circumstance,  not  of 
real  sympathy  or  understanding,  and — it  has  come 
to  an  end." 

"  Dear  me !  How  melodramatic !  Why,  your 
headache  has  made  you  quite  imposing.  And  how 
tall  you  look  in  that  maroon-colored  peignoir!  It 
is  really  becoming.  Au  revoir,  my  dear  !  " 

Julia  did  not  take  in  the  sense  of  these  last  words 
of  Mrs.  Davering's.  She  only  realized  that  at  last 
she  was  gone,  and  turning  slowly  from  the  door  to 
which  she  had  accompanied  her,  sank  into  the  near- 
est chair  with  a  sense  of  stupid  misery. 


288  A   CARPET  KNIGHT. 

It  was  true,  then,  —  not  a  dreadful  possibility, 
but  a  fact,  —  Mr.  Drayton  was  going  to  Europe, 
and  she  was  to  be  left,  and  all  the  world  had  heard 
it,  except  herself.  She  did  not  know  how  long  she 
had  been  facing  this  idea,  when  suddenly  she  heard 
the  street  door  open.  A  light,  firm  step  was  com- 
ing through  the  entry. 

It  paused  before  the  library  door,  and  then  the 
door  opened;  and  without  turning  her  head,  she 
knew  that  Mr.  Drayton  was  in  the  room.  She  rose 
mechanically,  and  stood  stiff  and  still,  not  looking 
at  him  or  speaking. 

"  Why,  Julia  ?  Is  that  you,  dear  ?  "  he  said  af- 
fectionately, coming  towards  her  and  taking  her 
two  cold  little  hands  in  his. 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Drayton."  Still  she  did  not  raise  her 
eyes,  or  smile. 

"  What  is  it,  my  child  ?  Are  you  not  well  ?  I 
am  afraid  you  have  been  going  to  too  many  parties, 
you  naughty  girl !  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Julia,  raising  her  eyes  at  last  with 
a  strangely  hard  look  in  them.  •"  I  have  been  go- 
ing to  too  many  parties."  There  was  a  faintly  sa- 
tirical smile  about  the  corners  of  her  mouth. 

Mr.  Drayton  dropped  her  hands  and  turned 
away.  He  stepped  to  the  fire,  drew  off  his  gloves 
and  began  warming  his  hands.  "  How  are  Miss 
Ruthven  and  your  friend  Miss  Arnold  ?  "  he  asked, 
presently. 

"  They  are  very  well,"  said  Julia  coldly.  "  Philip 
and  Edith  have  gone  to  ride  on  horseback.  Would 


A   CARPET  KNKHIT.  289 

you  like  a  warm  cup  of  coffee  after  your  journey?  " 
she  asked,  in  a  kind  but  slightly  weary  tone. 

"No,  thank  you,  dear.  The  journey  is  not  a  very 
long  one.  There  are  several  matters,  however, 
about  which  I  am  anxious.  Perhaps  I  had  better 
go  down  to  the  office." 

"  Oh  no,  do  not !  Philip  will  soon  come  back, 
and  then  you  can  talk  them  over  with  him,"  she 
said  earnestly,  coming  to  liis  side,  and  forgetting 
for  the  moment,  in  her  solicitude,  her  feeling  of 
wounded  pride. 

"  Why,  that  was  spoken  like  your  old  self,  Ju- 
lia !  "  said  Mr.  Drayton,  turning  to  her  with  his 
sweetest  smile.  "  Let  us  sit  down,  dear,  and  have 
a  little  talk."  He  drew  her  to  a  seat  beside  him 
on  a  low  lounge  by  the  fire.  "  Come,  tell  me  all 
that  has  happened  since  I  went  away,"  he  said. 

"  Not  much  has  happened  here"  said  Julia,  with 
some  accent  on  the  last  word. 

"  Did  a  certain  young  gentleman  come  to  call,  as 
I  predicted,  and  wish  to  discuss  a  certain  delicate 
subject  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Drayton,  with  an  attempt  to 
be  playful,  which  for  once  was  rather  a  failure,  on 
account  of  the  anxious  expression  of  his  face. 

"  Whom  do  you  mean  ? "  inquired  Julia,  fixing 
her  direct  gaze  upon  him. 

"  I  mean  Dr.  Carey,"  said  Mr.  Drayton,  looking 
into  the  fire. 

"  Yes,  Dr.  Carey  came  to  call,"  said  Julia,  coldly. 
"  He  came  to  say  good-by." 

"That  was  not  all,  Julia?" 

19 


290  A   CARPET  KNIGHT. 

"It  is  all  that  T  care  to  remember." 

Mr.  Drayton  turned  and  gave  her  one  long 
searching  look,  which  Julia  bore  unflinchingly  with 
something  of  defiance  in  her  eyes. 

"  Are  you  quite  sure  of  that  ?  "  he  asked.  "  Do 
you  not  think  that  you  will  change  your  mind  ?  " 

"  I  am  quite  sure  that  I  shall  not." 

He  put  his  arm  gently  about  her.  "  Julia,"  he 
said,  "  there  is  something  which  I  must  tell  you  : 
and  the  sooner  it  is  said,  the  better,  I  suppose." 

He  paused  for  a  moment,  and  then  began  again 
more  hurriedly. 

"  I  have  just  decided,  my  dear,  to  accept  that 
case  of  which  I  spoke  to  you  a  few  weeks  ago,  the 
one  which  involves  my  going  abroad,  and  I  have  to 
sail  very  soon,  —  next  Monday,  in  fact." 

She  listened  in  stony  silence.  It  was  nothing 
new  to  her,  only  a  little  more  sudden  —  a  little 
sooner  than  she  had  thought  possible.  At  last,  she 
said :  — 

"I  heard  that  you  were  going  abroad  for  the 
summer,  through  Mrs.  Davering,  this  afternoon.  It 
is  true,  then  ?  I  did  not  know  whether  to  believe 
it." 

Her  throat  felt  very  dry.  It  was  with  difficulty 
that  she  succeeded  in  pronouncing  her  words,  but 
she  spoke  clearly  enough  and  rather  coldly. 

"  It  is  quite  true,"  said  Mr.  Drayton,  "  but  I  do 
not  know  how  Mrs.  Davering  heard  it."  His  face 
wore  a  serious,  troubled  look,  which  at  any  other 
time  would  have  aroused  Julia's  sympathy,  but  it 


A   CARPET  KNIGHT.  291 

seemed  as  if  some  evil  fairy  had  transformed  her 
usual  tenderness  into  the  haughtiest  indifference, 
so  far  as  her  manner  was  translatable.  Perhaps 
some  such  thought  occurred  to  Mr.  Drayton ;  for 
seeking  anxiously  a  cause  for  Julia's  altered  de- 
meanor, he  suddenly  hit  upon  Mrs.  Davering  as  the 
evil  genius  \vln>  had  wrought  the  change.  It  was 
a  great  relief  to  have  some  one  to  blame  other  than 
his  ward  or  himself. 

"  Has  Mrs.  Davering  been  talking  to  you  again 
about  me  ?"  he  asked  quickly. 

"  Oh,  no,"  said  .Julia.  "She  said  nothing  but 
what  I  have  told  you." 

"  Nevertheless,  you  felt  wounded  at  hearing  it 
from  her  first,  rather  than  from  me.  Is  that  not 
true,  Julia?  " 

"  I  should  have  supposed  that  I  might  have  been 
told  as  soon  as  any  one,"  said  Julia  calmly,  "  but 

it  makes  very  little  difference,  since  you  go  so  soon. 
I " 

Her  voice  broke  off  suddenly,  and  she  turned 
away  her  head.  Mr.  Drayton  hastily  withdrew 
his  arm.  He  rose  from  his  seat  and  began  pacing 
up  and  down  the  room  with  firm  set  lips,  a  glow  on 
his  cheek,  and  a  brilliant  light  in  his  dark  eyes. 

The  excitement  of  his  manner  had  a  quieting 
effect  upon  Julia,  and  restored  the  self-control 
which  she  feared  she  had  been  about  to  lose. 
There  was  comfort  in  the  assurance  that  this  part- 
ing;, which  was  so  hard  for  her,  was  after  all  not 
such  an  easy  matter  for  him  ;  and'  then,  quickly  as 


292  A   CARPET  KNIGHT. 

he  had  withdrawn  from  beside  her,  there  had  been, 
at  the  instant  of  his  doing  so,  something  like  a 
lightning  flash  of  sympathy  which  had  passed  from 
him  to  her.  She  knew  by  a  sudden  instinct  that 
he  was  feeling  more  than  he  wished  her  to  imagine, 
and  the  discovery  gave  her  courage  to  say  what  she 
could  not  have  said  without  this  gleam  of  hope. 

"  Must  you  go  away  ?  "  she  asked. 

He  did  not  answer,  so  she  spoke  again. 

"  Is  it  necessary  to  take  this  case  ?  " 

"  No,  it  is  not  necessary." 

"  Then  why  do  you  do  it  ?  "  she  inquired,  in  a 
softer  tone. 

"  For  many  reasons.  It  is  not  only  gratifying 
to  my  ambition  to  have  been  asked  to  take  it,  but 
if  I  conduct  it  well  it  will  increase  my  reputation 
both  here  and  abroad  ;  and  then  the  change  of  air 
and  scene  will  no  doubt  do  me  good."  The  last 
part  of  this  speech  was  uttered  in  so  sad  a  tone, 
and  the  first  part  with  so  little  of  the  buoyant  ex- 
pectation which  the  words  would  have  conveyed, 
that  Julia  exclaimed,  — 

"  I  do  not  believe  you  really  want  to  go !  " 

Mr.  Drayton  walked  away  towards  one  of  the 
book-cases  at  the  side  of  the  room.  He  took  down 
a  book,  opened  and  looked  at  it.  His  back  was 
towards  Julia-j  but  she  saw  him  raise  his  hand  to 
his  eyes.  It  might  have  been  to  shade  them  from 
the  light,  but  she  fancied  that  he  brushed  away  a 
tear. 

"  I  do  not  think  it  will  do  your  health  as  much 


A   CARPET  KNIGHT.  293 

good  to  go  as  to  stay  here,"  she  said,  earnestly. 
"If  you  are  not  feeling  strong  you  will  need  to  be 
cared  for.  It  will  be  lonely  among  strangers." 

He  did  not  answer  for  a  moment,  and  then  he 
turned  once  more  towards  her,  with  the  kind  smile 
which  she  knew  so  well. 

"  My  dear  girl  must  not  believe  me  so  selfish," 
he  said,  "as  to  be  thinking  only  of  what  is  good 
for  me.  I  am  thinking  also  that  it  will  be  best  for 
her  to  have  a  little  less  care,  —  to  be  thrown  more 
entirely  with  younger  people  ;  for  when  I  am  here 
I  am  unconsciously  selfish,  and  monopolize  her  time 
a  little  too  much,  without  meaning  to  do  so." 

He  had  drawn  near  to  her  and  taken  her  passive 
hand  in  his.  Her  whole  heart  rose  to  her  lips  in 
one  wild  protest  against  the  fate  which  seemed 
closing  about  her. 

"  Oh !  if  it  is  of  me  you  are  thinking,  do  not,  do 
not  leave  me  !  "  she  cried. 

"  I  must,"  said  Mr.  Drayton,  in  a  strange,  stern 
voice.  "  I  must  leave  you  for  your  sake  and  mine. 
It  is  best  for  both  of  us." 

Julia  said  nothing  then.  What  could  he  mean  ? 
Was  it  that  after  all  he  was  tired  of  the  responsi- 
bility which  he  had  undertaken  in  the  care  of  her? 
Did  he  fancy  that  she  was  becoming  too  exacting, 
too  dependent  on  him  ?  Did  he  suspect  the  reason 
why  she  had  answered  Dr.  Carey  as  she  had  done  ? 
Oh  horror  of  horrors !  Why  had  she  shown  her 
sorrow  to  him  ?  A  feeling  of  despair  had  suddenly 
succeeded  to  her  passionate  grief,  and  she  was 


294  A   CARPET  KNIGHT. 

dumb  with  a  sense  of  suffering  which  could  not  be 
expressed. 

She  did  not  know  how  long  it  was  before  he  left 
the  room.  She  remembered  afterwards  that  he 
had  come  close  up  to  where  she  stood  by  the  table 
in  the  centre  of  the  room,  and  just  touched  her 
forehead  with  his  lips,  and  that  she  had  not  moved 
or  raised  her  eyes,  and  then  he  had  gone  —  yes,  he 
had  gone ! 

When  she  realized  that,  she  stretched  out  her 
arms  with  a  low  cry  of  pain.  Her  hands  touched 
the  back  of  a  heavy  leathern  arm-chair,  the  one  in 
which  her  guardian  always  sat,  and  she  clung  to 
it  as  to  a  living  thing  and  clasped  it  in  her  arms, 
sinking  down  until  her  head  rested  upon  its  cush- 
ioned seat,  and  weeping  there  as  if  her  heart  would 
break. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

"  The  blood  more  itin 
To  rouse  a  lion  than  to  start  a  hare  !  '' 


EDITH  meanwhile  had  gone  to  ride  with  Philip, 
as  Julia  said.  The  promise  had  been  of  long  stand- 
ing, and  its  fulfillment  postponed  from  time  to 
time,  until  Julia  took  it  in  hand  and  insisted  that 
it  should  be  fixed  for  to-day. 

She  had  set  her  heart  upon  Edith's  wearing  her 
riding  habit  and  riding  her  horse  ;  which,  as  she 
was  very  fond  of  the  horse,  was  a  proof  of  the 
enthusiastic  nature  of  her  friendship,  for  she  had 
never  allowed  any  one  else  to  ride  him.  Indeed, 
until  the  time  of  his  accident  Mr.  Drayton  and 
Julia  had  ridden  together  constantly  ;  but  during 
the  press  of  the  gay  season  Miss  Prescott  had  not 
found  time  to  ride  with  Philip,  who  had  been  con- 
demned to  go  alone. 

Edith,  who  was  feeling  a  little  dispirited  just 
now,  was  not  very  enthusiastic  about  the  ride,  and 
a  little  incident  happened  as  they  were  about  to  set 
forth  which  plunged  her  into  a  sad  abstraction, 
very  unlike  her  usual  alert  interest  in  the  things 
about  her,  and  must  have  made  her  rather  a  dull 
companion. 


296  A    CARPET  KNIGHT. 

It  chanced  that  as  they  came  out  of  the  house  a 
boy  was  standing  on  the  door-step,  holding  a  note. 
Philip,  recognizing  in  him  his  own  office  boy,  put 
out  his  hand  mechanically  and  took  it. 

"  Is  any  one  waiting  ?  "  he  asked,  quickly. 

"  No,  sir.  Mr.  Wilmott  give  me  the  note  before 
he  went  away." 

"  Why  did  you  not  give  it  to  me  yesterday,  then, 
or  this  morning?  " 

"  It  ain't  for  you,  sir.  He  told  me  to  bring  it 
up  here  when  I  'd  get  a  chance,  and  I  ain't  had  a 
chance  before,"  said  the  boy. 

Philip  glanced  at  the  address.  "  I  beg  your  par- 
don, Miss  Arnold,"  he  said,  in  a  changed  tone.  "  It 
seems  that  this  note  is  for  you." 

Edith  blushed  hotly  as  she  took  it  from  him,  as 
much  from  surprise  as  embarrassment.  Her  first 
impulse  was  to  put  the  note  in  her  pocket,  and  wait 
for  a  more  suitable  moment  to  read  it ;  then  it  oc- 
curred to  her  that  such  a  course  would  add  to  the 
appearance  of  something  prearranged  between  her- 
self and  Cecil,  and  she  decided  to  open  it  at  once, 
but  on  breaking  the  seal  perceived  that  it  only  con- 
tained the  verses  which  she  had  copied  for  him, 
and  which  he  had  returned.  There  were  a  few 
words  written  on  his  card  to  say  that  after  what 
had  passed  between  them  he  did  not  feel  that  he 
should  keep  them,  and  that  was  all.  The  whole 
matter  was  unimportant,  evidently  the  result,  in 
Cecil,  of  a  passing  feeling  of  pique ;  but  the  little 
action  wounded  her,  and  the  tears  sprang  to  her 


A   CARPET  KNIGHT.  297 

eyes  unbidden,  as  she  thrust  the  paper  hastily  out 
of  sight  and  joined  Philip  on  the  pavement,  where 
he  had  been  apparently  absorbed  in  the  inspection 
of  the  horses  and  conversation  with  the  groom 
while  he  awaited  her  coming. 

He  helped  her  on  horseback  without  speaking, 
and  they  rode  for  some  distance  in  silence.  Had 
Philip  been  a  ready  man  he  would  have  begun  to 
talk  at  once  upon  indifferent  topics ;  but  if  he  suc- 
ceeded in  not  seeming  to  notice  his  companion's 
mood,  he  was  far  too  much  distressed  by  it  to  be 
capable  of  acting  the  part  he  would  have  chosen. 

At  last  Edith  roused  herself,  and  began  ques- 
tioning him  about  some  beautiful  gardens  which 
they  were  passing,  on  either  side  of  a  broad  street, 
with  many  grand-looking  houses  standing  in  the 
midst  of  them. 

"  Why  have  I  never  been  in  this  part  of  the  city 
before  ?  "  she  asked  wonderingly.  "  How  fine  it  is. 
Who  lives  here  ?  " 

"  Some  of  the  most  worthy  people  in  town,"  re- 
plied Philip ;  "  but,  living  where  we  do,  we  do  not 
happen  to  know  them,  and  are  not  often  led  in  this 
direction  either  for  business  or  pleasure." 

"  If  I  lived  in  Philadelphia  I  should  live  here," 
said  Edith  decidedly. 

Philip  smiled.  "  I  do  not  wonder  that  this  part 
of  the  town  impresses  you  favorably,"  he  answered. 
"  It  is  much  more  beautiful  than  our  own,  but  we 
are  very  conservative,  and  cling  to  our  old  haunts." 

At  this  moment  a  lady  rode  by,  in  a  dark-green 


298  A   CARPET  KNIGHT. 

habit,  whom  Edith  recognized  as  Mrs.  Percy.  She 
bowed  graciously,  as  did  also  the  cavalier  who  was 
accompanying  her,  and  who  proved  to  be  Mr.  Haz- 
zard. 

"  Are  you  going  to  the  hare  and  hounds,  Dray- 
ton  ?  "  he  called  out  in  passing. 

"  No,  I  was  not,"  said  Philip!  "  In  fact,  I  had 
forgotten  that  the  hunt  was  to-day."  And  then, 
turning  to  Edith,  as  if  a  sudden  thought  had  struck 
him,  asked,  — 

"  How  would  you  like  to  see  the  hare  and 
hounds,  by  the  bye,  Miss  Arnold  ?  We  might  go 
to  the  meet,  and  to  Heronsford  afterwards.  It  is 
on  the  way." 

"  I  think  that  would  be  delightful,"  replied  Edith. 
"  You  know  I  want  to  see  Heronsford  very  much." 

"  Never  fear.  I  will  certainly  take  you  there," 
he  answered,  "  but  it  is  rather  a  rare  chance  to  see 
the  hare  and  hounds  at  this  season  of  the  year. 
This  hunt  has  been  gotten  up  rather  as  an  experi- 
ment, because  we  have  had  such  mild  weather  for 
the  last  few  weeks,  and  they  do  not  usually  begin 
until  a  month  or  two  later." 

They  had  left  the  pavements  by  this  time,  and, 
turning  their  horses  at  the  next  cross-road,  passed 
along  a  country  lane,  and  then  on  into  another, 
until  they  found  themselves  at  the  gate  of  a  long 
avenue,  which  led  up  to  an  old-fashioned  gray 
stone  house.  In  a  field  near  the  house  were  a  num- 
ber of  open  and  close  carriages,  filled  with  people, 
and  of  ladies  and  gentlemen  on  horseback,  some  of 


A   CARPET  KNIGHT.  999 

the  latter  dressed  in  red  coats,  which  proclaimed 
that  they  were  to  join  the  hunt. 

Philip  dismounted,  and  went  to  speak  to  the 
lady  of  the  house,  who  might  be  seen  in  a  pretty 
little  basket  phaeton,  wearing  a  jaunty  hat,  and 
nodding  with  kindly  hospitality  to  all  new-comers. 
She  drove  up  presently  to  welcome  Miss  Arnold, 
and  recommended  a  certain  spot  to  her  and  Philip 
as  likely  to  give  them  the  best  possible  view  of 
"  the  start." 

They  had  just  taken  their  places  on  the  side  of  a 
hill,  according  to  her  directions,  when  the  "  hare  " 
passed  them,  moving  quite  deliberately,  and  with 
none  of  the  fear  in  his  eye  of  coming -pursuit  which 
might  be  assoeiated  with  his  character. 

He  appeared  about  forty,  was  dressed  in  a  vel- 
veteen riding -suit,  mounted  on  a  strong -looking 
chestnut,  and  carried  a  bag,  strung  over  one  shoul- 
der, from  which  he  drew  a  handful  of  small  bits  of 
white  paper,  which  he  scattered  on  the  ground  to 
make  the  trail.  A  lady  rode  beside  him,  glancing 
at  whom  Edith  perceived  the  inevitable  Mrs.  Percy. 

"  The  hare  will  be  allowed  twenty  minutes' 
grace,"  said  Philip,  "  that  he  may  be  well  in  ad- 
vance of  his  pursuers  before  they  set  upon  his 
track." 

During  the  pause  which  ensued  Mr.  Hazzard 
rode  up. 

"  Good  afternoon,  Miss  Arnold.  How  is  Miss 
Prescott  to-day  ?  I  was  sorry  to  hear  yesterday 
that  she  was  not  feeling  well." 


300  A    CARPET  KNIGHT. 

"  She  is  better,  thank  you,  but  not  quite  herself, 
yet.  Do  you  not  miss  Dr.  Carey  very  much,  Mr. 
Hazzard  ?  " 

"  Miss  him  !  I  should  think  I  did.  I  hardly 
know  where  I  am  without  him.  I  don't  see  why 
on  earth  he  should  have  insisted  on  going-  away !  " 

"  I  miss  Carey,  too,"  said  Philip.  "  What  a 
good  fellow  he  is !  I  wish  I  could  have  seen  more 
of  him  while  he  was  here.  He  has  always  stayed 
at  our  house  when  he  has  been  in  town  before,  you 
know,  and  I  quite  envied  you  for  having  him  with 

you." 

"  Ah,  yes,  I  stole  a  march  on  you,"  replied  Mr. 
Hazzard.  "  You  see  I  had  been  on  to  Boston  last 
winter,  and  Carey  was  so  confoundedly  kind  to  me 
that  I  wanted  to  get  a  chance  of  giving  him  some 
fun ;  but  with  my  usual  luck  I  must  needs  go  and 
sprain  my  ankle,  which  was  sorry  fun  enough  for 
both  of  us." 

"  Your  ankle  seems  as  well  as  ever  now,"  said 
Edith,  glancing  at  his  riding-boot,  the  fine  propor- 
tions of  which  did  not  seem  in  any  way  disturbed 
by  the  leg  within. 

"  I  still  have  a  little  trouble  in  walking,"  he  an- 
swered ;  "  but  I  am  as  good  as  any  man  in  the  sad- 
dle. Will  you  not  remember  me  kindly  to  Ju  — 
to  Miss  Prescott  ?  I  came  yesterday  on  purpose  to 
ask  her  if  she  would  not  ride  out  here  to-day  with 
me.  By  Jove !  I  believe  they  are  going  to  start," 
he  added.  Looking  where  he  pointed,  Edith  saw 
that  the  huntsmen  had  all  formed  in  a  line  across 


A    CARPET  KXK'UIT.  301 

a  broad  valley  in  front  of  them,  a  few  rods  behind 
a  green  hurdle  which  had  been  arranged  for  the 
first  leap. 

While  she  looked,  Mr.  Hazzard  had  joined  their 
ranks  just  as  tin-  word  was  given,  and  they  were 
off.  They  all  took  the  hurdle  successfully,  and 
then  came  flying  by  in  a  wild  rush  for  the  end  of 
the  field,  where  the  topmost  rail  had  been  consider- 
ately withdrawn  from  the  fence  in  several  places. 

Philip  and  Miss  Arnold  had  only  intended  to  be 
spectators  of  the  scene,  which  was  pretty  enough 
in  the  bright  winter  sunshine  ;  but  as  the  hunters 
swept  by  them,  the  horse  which  Edith  was  riding, 
being  a  young  one,  suddenly  became  excited.  He 
plunged  and  kicked  and  struggled  for  his  freedom, 
and  then,  taking  the  bit  between  his  teeth,  without 
further  ado  joined  in  the  race,  so  that  before  she 
realized  what  was  happening  she  had  dashed  down 
the  hill  and  was  riding  with  the  others. 

They  were  fast  approaching  the  fence,  and  she 
had  never  practiced  leaping  ;  she  felt  giddy  with 
excitement,  but  the  next  moment  Philip's  voice 
sounded  in  her  ear,  and  she  was  comforted  to  find 
him  still  close  at  hand.  He  had  held  back  a  little 
at  first,  fearing  to  incite  her  horse  still  further,  but 
now  he  came  swiftly  to  her  side. 

"  Give  him  his  head,"  he  said  calmly,  as  they 
neared  the  fence.  "  That  will  do.  Now  your  whip, 
and  raise  him  a  little.  Bravo !  "  he  cried,  as  she 
found  herself,  to  her  own  infinite  surprise,  on  the 
other  side  of  the  barrier,  with  Philip  still  beside 


302  A    CARPET  KNIGHT. 

her  and  his  strong  hand  on  the  bridle,  beneath 
which  her  horse  seemed  quite  submissive. 

"  Oh  !  I  am  so  glad,"  she  exclaimed  breath- 
lessly. "  And  thank  you  ever  so  much  for  taking 
such  good  care  of  me." 

"  Why,  you  are  a  famous  horsewoman,"  replied 
Philip.  "  I  had  no  idea  you  meant  to  do  such 
desperate  things." 

"  Indeed,  I  did  not  mean  them,  either,"  she  said 
contritely.  "  I  am  ashamed  to  say  that  I  could  not 
manage  my  horse." 

"  I  know  all  about  it,"  answered  Philip  reassur- 
ingly.' "  No  one  could  have  restrained  him,  I 
think,  with  the  temptation  so  near.  I  should  have 
been  more  thoughtful  in  choosing  our  point  of  ob- 
servation. How  do  you  feel  about  it  now?  Do 
you  want  to  follow,  or  shall  we  turn  back  ?  " 

"  Oh,  let  us  go  on,"  cried  Edith ;  and  then  see- 
ing that  Philip  looked  troubled,  she  added,  "I  will 
do  whichever  you  think  best." 

"  I  think  it  would  be  a  little   safer  not,"  he  said. 

"  But  must  we  turn  back  ?  It  is  so  ignomin- 
ious." 

Philip  laughed.  "  Suppose  we  take  a  medium 
course,"  he  suggested,  as  they  came  to  a  road 
which  led  off  to  the  right  of  the  one  which  the 
others  were  following.  "Let  us  strike  down  this 
path;  which  I  think  will  lead  us  out  so  that  we 
can  see  the  hare  again,"  he  continued,  turning 
their  horses'  heads  as  he  spoke,  and  they  were 
soon  riding  through  a  thick  wood.  Huge  bare 


A    CARPET  KM 'ill  T.  303 

trunks  of  trees  stood  out  on  either  side  of  them, 
the  naked  boughs  of  which  with  their  thousands 
of  little  branches  formed  a  fine  network  overhaul, 
so  interlacing  that  the  pale  February  sky  was  only 
faintly  visible  between. 

The  sound  of  the  hunt  soon  died  away  in  the  dis- 
tance. There  was  no  noise  but  the  rustle  of  the 
dried  leaves  as  they  crumpled  beneath  the  horses' 
feet. 

"  How  ghostly  this  is,"  said  Edith.  "  It  is  a 
great  contrast  to  the  gay  scene  which  we  have  just 
left.  If  I  were  alone,  I  think  I  should  be  quite 
frightened." 

-  Why.  what  are  you  afraid  of?" 

"  I  am  not  afraid  —  with  you."  She  looked  up 
at  him  frankly  and  trustfully,  as  she  spoke.  Per- 
haps the  sense  of  security  which  his  presence  al- 
ways inspired  was  increased  at  the  moment  by  the 
pluck  and  presence  of  mind  which  he  had  shown  in 
the  last  half  hour.  "  I  wish  that  I  had  had  a 
brother,  and  that  he  might  have  been  like  you ! " 
she  exclaimed,  impulsively. 

Philip  started.  He  cast  an  earnest  glance  at  her 
unconscious,  smiling  face,  and  then  turned  away 
with  a  deep  sigh.  "  I  think  we  must  hurry  a  little, 
if  we  are  to  reach  the  other  side  of  the  wood  in 
time  to  see  the  end  of  the  hunt,"  he  said. 

They  quickened  their  horses'  pace,  and  soon 
heard  the  far-off  winding  of  the  horn  which  de- 
noted the  whereabouts  of  the  hare.  It  was  used 
in  this  instance  by  the  lady  who  accompanied  him. 


304  A    CARPET  KNIGHT. 

"  Why  did  you  not  want  me  to  follow  the  hunt?  " 
asked  Edith. 

"  Because  the  leaps  become  more  and  more  dan- 
gerous as  the  chase  goes  on." 

As  he  spoke,  they  emerged  from  the  wood  on 
an  open  field  which  sloped  away  gradually  towards 
a  little  stream  winding  along  between  two  swampy 
banks.  •  Just  as  they  did  so  the  hare  leapt  the 
stream,  closely  followed  by  Mrs.  Percy,  and  then 
the  whole  pack  of  hunters  came  flying  across,  helter 
skelter,  some  sinking  into  the  mud  and  water  up  to 
their  horses'  knees.  After  this,  a  mad  race  began 
for  the  top  of  the  field,  which,  as  the  horses  were 
beginning  to  feel  the  effect  of  the  run,  was  hard 
for  them,  but  the  riders  urged  them  on  with  re- 
doubled speed,  each  excited  with  the  hope  of  com- 
ing in  the  first. 

At  last  the  hunt  was  over.  The  hare  and  Mrs. 
Percy  had  just  escaped  being  overtaken,  and  Mr. 
Hazzard  had  been  the  nearest  to  the  capture. 

"  How  about  Heronsford  ? "  asked  Philip. 
"  "Would  it  be  wiser  to  postpone  it  for  another 
day?" 

"  We  will  if  you  say  so." 

He  smiled  at  her  evident  disappointment. 

"  I  meant  only  in  case  you  were  tired,"  he  said. 

"  But  I  am  not  tired." 

"  Then  we  will  push  on,  by  all  means.  After  all, 
we  have  not  far  to  go." 

Their  way  led  them  through  a  shady  country 
lane  bordered  with  fine  old  willows,  and  after  pass- 


A    CA ///'//    KMHIIT.  305 

ing  several  cosy  looking  farms,  and  here  and  there 
a  country-seat,  brought  them  at  last  to  the  gates  of 
Heronsford. 

The  avenue  curved  in  a  long  sweep  and  crossed 
a  rustic  bridge,  bringing  them  in  sight  of  the  house 
some  moments  before  they  readied  the  door.  Edith 
had  been  pleaded  with  the  little  sketch  which  she 
had  seen  of  it,  but  was  not  at  all  prepared,  for  the 
stateliness  and  grandeur  of  the  original.  It  was 
built  in  an  English  Gothic  style,  with  carved  stone 
ornaments,  very  finely  executed,  in  the  pointed 
arches  above  the  doors  and  windows. 

The  gabled  end  of  a  pointed  roof  was  presented 
to  the  approach,  adorned  with  numerous  little  stone 
spires  and  pinnacles,  and  the  chief  entrance  was 
protected  by  a  carved  porch  in  three  Gothic  arches 
from  which  a  few  steps  descended  to  the  ground. 

The  main  body  of  the  house  formed  an  angle 
with  tliis  projecting  wing,  and  built  into  the 
structure  was  a  long  line  of  slender  sculptured 
pillars,  through  the  intervals  between  which  the 
windows  of  the  drawing-room  could  be  distin- 
guished, opening  on  a  sort  of  stone  piazza  like  a 
cloistered  walk ;  while  on  the  left  another  wing 
jutted  forward,  inclosing  an  irregular  strip  of  lawn, 
and  terminating  in  a  low  turret. 

The  whole  building  was  of  a  rough,  faintly  tinted 
gray  stone  resembling  granite  in  texture,  but  evi- 
dently softer  and  easier  to  carve ;  and  the  longer 
Edith  looked  the  more  attractive  it  appeared, 
among  the  dark  foliage  of  a  wide-spreading  group 
20 


306  A   CARPET  KNIGHT. 

of  Norway  pines,  and  covered  at  one  end  with  a 
veil  of  ivy. 

"  Do  you  like  it  ?  "  asked  Philip  turning  towards 
her  eagerly. 

"  Oh,  very  much  !  "  she  answered.  "  Everything 
about  it  is  so  in  harmony  and  so  beautiful.  How 
could  you  think  of  all  this  yourself  ?  " 

"  I  did  not  think  of  it  all,"  said  Philip  modestly. 
"  I  wish  I  had." 

"  Did  you  not  plan  it  yourself  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  I  planned  it,  but  I  mean  to  say  that  the  forms 
themselves  are  not  original.  They  have  been  re- 
peated hundreds  and  hundreds  of  times." 

"  The  combination  is  original,"  said  Edith,  "  and 
although  I  have  only  seen  the  forms  in  pictures,  I 
doubt  if  I  should  like  them  so  well  if  you  had  in- 
vented them  yourself." 

"  I  did  not  intend  to  say  that  I  could  invent 
forms  as  good." 

"If  it  were  possible  that  you  might,"  she  an- 
swered, "  they  would  not  have  the  same  associ- 
ations. There  is  a  charm  in  the  ideas  which  these 
awaken,  which  add  to  one's  enjoyment.  I  can 
fancy  some  royal  prisoner,  for  instance,  looking 
from  the  solitary  window  of  that  turret  chamber, 
or  an  astronomer,  or  a  misanthrope  ;  or  I  can  imag- 
ine a  brown-robed  monk  pacing  that  cloistered 
walk." 

"That  tower  contains  my  collection  of  curiosi- 
ties," said  Philip,  "  and  I  fear  there  is  never  any 
face  but  my  most  commonplace  one  to  be  seen  from 
it." 


A   CARPET  KXK.llT.  307 

"  I  wonder  which  you  look  the  most  like,  a  king 
or  a  philosopher  ?  "  she  questioned  gayly. 

"You  have  a  lively  imagination  indeed  if  you 
could  fancy  I  looked  like  either,"  said  Philip. 

Edith  colored  a  little.  "  Oh  !  no,  I  have  no  im- 
agination at  all,"  she  responded  demurely. 

They  had  reached  the  door  now  and  Philip  had 
thrown  the  reins  to  a  groom  and  stood  beside  her 
horse  ready  to  help  her  to  dismount. 

"  V»'hy  do  you  say  that?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  have  always  been  told  so." 

"  I  do  not  believe  it,"  said  Philip.  He  was  hold- 
ing her  at  arms'  length,  with  a  wistful  look  in  his 
eyes  of  which  he  was  hardly  conscious. 

"  It  is  all  the  result  of  your  imagination,"  as- 
serted Edith,  "  which  has  set  my  stupid  brain  to 
working." 

This  was  too  dangerously  sweet,  and  suddenly 
realizing  that  he  had  thrown  precaution  to  the 
winds,  Philip  set  her  on  her  feet  just  in  time  to  re- 
ceive the  welcome  of  a  graceful  red  setter,  which 
came  bounding  up  to  greet  them. 

"  Down,  Larry  !  Down,  I  say !  "  exclaimed  his 
master. 

"  Oh  !  "  cried  Edith,  "  can  this  be  Larry  ?  Why, 
he  does  not  look  as  if  his  leg  had  ever  been 
broken ! " 


CHAPTEE  XXV. 

"  The  worst  ia  not 
So  long  as  we  can  say,  this  is  (he  worst." 

SHAKESPEARE. 

IT  being  once  decided  that  Mr.  Drayton  was  to 
go  abroad  in  a  few  days,  time  seemed  to  fly  by  on 
wings  of  which  the  motion  might  almost  be  felt 
and  heard.  Sunday  morning  came,  and  he  went  to 
church  with  Julia  and  Edith  as  usual,  the  only  un- 
usual circumstance  being  that  Philip,  who  was  not 
much  of  a  church-goer,  accompanied  them. 

It  has  been  mentioned  that  Mr.  Drayton  was  an 
Episcopalian,  and  very  simple  and  earnest  in  his 
belief.  He  might  be  seen  at  the  corner  of  his  old- 
fashioned  family  pew  in  one  of  the  oldest  churches 
in  Philadelphia  as  often  as  Sunday  morning  came, 
but  there  was  none  of  the  pomp  and  circumstance 
of  the  typical  paterfamilias  in  his  manner  of  at- 
tending the  service,  and  never  the  faintest  reproof 
conveyed  in  word  or  look  to  any  one  who  chose  to 
remain  away. 

Philip  availed  himself  of  this  privilege  very 
freely,  but  when  Julia  was  a  little  girl  she  had 
begged  to  be  allowed  to  go  to  church  with  her 
guardian,  and  they  had  always  been  together  since. 

Edith  Arnold  never  forgot  the  impression  made 


A   CARPET  KXUillT.  309 

upon  her  by  her  first  Sunday  in  Philadelphia,  the 
deserted  aspect  of  the  town,  the  air  of  starched  re- 
spectability of  the  other  church-goers  whom  they 
met  on  their  way  to  the  morning  service,  proceed- 
ing solemnly  two  by  two  as  though  assisting  at  a 
funeral,  or  the  stillness  of  the  streets. 

It  seemed  to  her  an  awful  silence  that  fell  on  the 
great  city  at  the  end  of  every  busy,  giddy  week, 
and  she  could  not  shake  off  the  impression  that 
some  serious  misfortune  was  about  to  happen,  when 
she  heard  the  chiming  of  the  bells. 

As  she  was  waiting  for  Julia  at  the  foot  of  the 
stairs  in  the  front  entry,  on  this  particular  Sunday, 
Mr.  Drayton  looked  out  from  his  library  and  asked 
Kdith  if  she  would  not  step  in  for  a  moment,  as  he 
wished  to  speak  to  her.  She  assented  quietly,  and 
taking  the  chair  he  offered  near  the  large  end  win- 
dow, looked  up  inquiringly. 

"  Perhaps  you  have  heard,  my  dear,  that  I  am 
going  abroad  unexpectedly  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Drayton,  I  was  so  sorry  to  hear  it." 

"  I  am  very  sorry,  too.  I  feel  it  most  for  Julia's 
sake,  as  you  may  imagine,"  said  Mr.  Drayton, 
speaking  hurriedly.  He  paused,  and  then  said,  "  I 
want  to  ask  if  you  will  not  do  me  the  great  favor 
of  remaining  with  my  ward  as  long  as  possible  af- 
ter I  am  gone  ?  " 

"  I  will,  indeed,  as  long  as  I  can." 

"  And  can  you  not  stay  long  ?  " 

She  looked  embarrassed.  "  My  mother  and  sis- 
ter have  been  growing  impatient  for  my  return," 


310  A   CARPET  KNIGHT. 

she  said,  hesitatingly ;  "  but  I  will  write  to  my 
mother  and  tell  her  of  your  having  to  go  away,  and 
I  think  she  will  let  me  stay." 

Mr.  Drayton  looked  much  relieved.  "  I  shall 
consider  it  as  a  personal  kindness  if  you  will  do 
so,"  he  said.  "  Julia  is  very  fond  of  you,  and  you 
may  do  more  than  any  one  else  can  to  divert  and 
cheer  her.  She  will  make  an  effort  to  go  into  so- 
ciety for  your  sake  which  she  would  not  make  for 
her  own,  perhaps,  —  and  I  think  society  is  good  for 
her." 

Edith  was  touched  by  the  tenderness  of  his  tone. 
"  I  will  do  all  that  I  can,"  she  said,  "  but  I  wish 
that  you  were  not  obliged  to  leave  her.  Julia  cares 
for  so  few  people  that  her  feelings  are  very  intense 
for  those  whom  she  loves." 

"  I  know  it,"  said  Mr.  Drayton.  He  turned  to 
the  window  and  was  silent  for  a  moment.  "  I 
would  rather,  Miss  Arnold,  that  Julia  did  not  know 
of  my  having  spoken  to  you  on  this  subject,"  he 
said,  presently. 

"  I  will  say  nothing  about  it,"  said  Edith,  rising, 
and  as  she  spoke  he  opened  the  door,  for  they  both 
fancied  that  they  heard  a  step  on  the  stair.  It 
proved,  however,  to  be  Philip,  who  came  in  with 
his  usual  grave  demeanor. 

As  the  whole  party  walked  together,  the  fact  that 
Mr.  Drayton  and  Julia  hardly  spoke  to  each  other 
on  the  way  to  church  was  not  noticeable  ;  but  it  was 
communion  Sunday,  and  when  they  came  out  alone 
half  an  hour  after  the  others  and  walked  side  by 


A    CARPET  KXK.IIT.  311 

side,  still  without  speaking,  the  silence  became  op- 
pressive. 

It  was  the  last  of  many  Sundays  that  they  had 
walked  houw  together  like  this,  but  not  like  this. 
Whether  talking  or  silent,  with  "oh,  what  differ- 
ent feelings  !  "  thought  poor  Julia,  as  she  struggled* 
to  keep  back  the  flood  of  sweet  old  memories 
which  threatened  to  break  down  her  self-control. 

"  Next  Sunday  you  will  be  on  the  ocean,"  she 
said  at  last,  in  desperation.  She  shrank  from  im- 
agining the  future,  but  it  was  easier  to  face  it 
calmly  than  to  think  of  the  past. 

"  Yes,  I  suppose  we  may  have  reached  Queens- 
town  by  Sunday,"  said  Mr.  Drayton,  with  that  stu- 
pid assumption  of  cheerfulness  which  deceives  no 
one  on  such  occasions. 

"  Queenstown  —  so  soon  !  "  exclaimed  Julia. 

"  You  are  right,"  he  returned,  hastily.  "  We 
could  hardly  reach  there  so  soon,  certainly  not 
at  this  season." 

"  Are  not  voyages  at  this  time  of  the  year  — 
more  dangerous  ?  " 

"  They  are  longer,  but  as  to  the  danger,  it  is 
quite  a  matter  of  chance  at  any  season.  There  are 
a  few  times,  of  course,  which  are  considered  excep- 
tionally safe  for  crossing  or  exceptionally  hazard- 
ous, but  this  does  not  happen  to  be  either,"  said 
Mr.  Drayton. 

He  did  not  renew  the  subject,  and  Julia,  who 
had  not  the  courage  to  speak  again,  was  for  once 
thankful  when  they  reached  the  house,  so  much  did 


312  A    CARPET  KNIGHT. 

she  dread  some  word  or  look  which  might  dispel 
her  outward  composure. 

It  was  fortunate  for  her  that  the  rest  of  the  day 
was  so  occupied  with  the  necessary  preparations 
for  Mr.  Drayton's  departure  that  there  was  no 
'time  to  think.  She  had  always  taken  a  pride  in 
performing  certain  little  womanly  offices  for  him, 
and  she  would  not  relinquish  them  now  of  all  times, 
when  they  seemed  to  be  the  last  faint  links  connect- 
ing her  with  a  past  which  was  fast  slipping  away 
from  her. 

She  dropped  here  and  there  a  silent  tear  as  she 
folded  one  of  his  coats,  or  between  the  piles  of  his 
clean  handkerchiefs,  when  none  were  by  to  see  her 
weakness,  but  at  dinner  she  wore  a  brave  front, 
and  all  through  the  afternoon  until  the  moment  of 
parting  was  close  at  hand. 

Mr.  Dray  ton,  who  was  to  sail  from  New  York 
early  the  next  morning,  had  told  her  that  he  must 
leave  home  on  Sunday  evening,  intending  to  go 
on  board  that  night ;  and  towards  dusk  Julia  crept 
into  the  library,  where  he  was  giving  a  few  last  di- 
rections to  Philip,  with  such  a  dull  sense  of  misery 
at  her  heart  that  she  was  glad  of  the  twilight  which 
sheltered  her  from  sympathizing  eyes. 

Miss  Ruthven  and  Edith  were  in  the  drawing- 
room  waiting  to  say  "  good-by,"  and  presently  Mr. 
Drayton  went  with  Philip  to  speak  to  them,  but 
Julia  did  not  follow.  She  sat  down  quietly  at  one 
corner  of  the  familiar  old  fire-place,  and  felt  that 
she  could  not  bear  to  hear  the  commonplace  last 


A   CARPET  KXKHIT.  313 

words,  which  must  be  said  in  the  cheerful  family 
farewell. 

It  seemed  to  her  an  interminable  time  before  she 
heard  Philip  start  up,  declaring  that  they  would  be 
late,  in  energetic  tones.  He  went  out  to  see  after 
the  carriage,  and  then  his  father  came  back  into 
the  room,  and  Julia  knew  that  he  was  standing  be- 
side her.  She  had  risen,  and  he  was  holding  out 
his  hand.  She  raised  her  eyes  slowly  until  they 
met  his.  One  long  look  passed  between  them,  and 
then  he  opened  his  arms  and  folded  her  to  his 
heart,  bending  over  her  as '  he  did  so  a  face  filled 
with  the  tenderest,  most  protecting  love. 

"  Julia,  my  dear,  dear  child,"  he  said.  "  God 
bless  you !  " 

He  put  her  gently  from  him  after  that,  and  left 
her  without  daring  to  take  another  look.  In  the 
entry  he  met  Philip  coming  to  hasten  him  ;  they 
both  went  out  together,  and  soon  the  retreating 
wheels  of  the  carriage  told  Julia  that  he  was  really 
gone. 

It  is  Miss  Thackeray,  I  think,  who,  with  that 
pretty  gift  of  insight,  half  satirical,  half  tender, 
which  she  has  inherited  from  the  genius  of  her  fa- 
ther, gives  thanks  to  Heaven,  somewhere,  that  we 
are  not  always  young ! 

To  those  who  know  how  keen  a  sorrow  may  be, 
for  comparatively  little  cause,  when  felt  with  un- 
accustomed nerves  by  one  who  never  dreamt  its 
power,  and  is  thus  unprepared  to  fight  with  it,  this 
is  properly  a  cause  of  thankfulness  ;  but  there  may 


314  A  CARPET  KNIGHT. 

be  two  classifications  of  the  causes  of  great  sor- 
row. 

First,  that  of  its  being  new  and  bringing  a  kind 
of  terror  to  the  imagination,  as  well  as  a  rending 
of  the  heart ;  and,  second,  that  of  its  actual  inten- 
sity, for  like  every  other  passion  it  is  capable  of  al- 
most infinite  shades  of  force. 

There  can  be  little  doubt  that  the  bitterest  is  not 
that  which  comes  as  a  stranger,  but  as  an  old  ac- 
quaintance ;  as  an  enemy  often  met  and  striven 
with,  but  never  vanquished.  The  poor  hunted  spirit 
which  such  grief  pursues  knows  every  far-off  sound 
of  its  awakening,  every  step  of  its  approach ;  and 
when  he  feels  that  he  can  fly  from  it  no  longer, 
but  must  turn  and  see  its  face,  his  very  breath  is 
stopped  with  anguish,  and  his  mental  pain  may  be 
compared  to  the  worst  physical  torture  ever  devised 
by  tyrant. 

It  is  not  asserted  that  Algernon  Drayton  suf- 
fered from  grief  like  this,  but  there  was  a  strange 
mingling  in  his  love  for  Julia  of  past  and  present 
associations  which  added  to  its  strength,  and  his 
self-reproach,  at  having  permitted  himself  to  covet 
that  which  he  considered  a  trust,  added  to  it  the 
sharp  prick  of  regret.  Of  Julia's  own  feelings,  he 
told  himself  that  they  were  those  of  an  affectionate 
daughter  who  had  not  known  any  parental  care 
but  his,  the  sense  of  whose  estrangement  from  her 
mother  had  added  to  her  love  for  him. 

"  She  could  not  love  me  better  if  she  were  my 
own  child,"  he  said,  and  tried  to  make  himself 


A   CARPET  KNIGHT.  315 

happy  with  that  thought.  How  much  sympathy 
there  was  between  them  !  What  perfect  under- 
standing of  each  other's  mwxls !  How  glad  Julia 
would  be  to  see  him  on  his  return !  How  happy 
their  life  would  be  when  they  were  once  more  to- 
gether —  but  stop !  Where  were  his  thoughts 
traveling  ? 

He  remembered  that  he  had  deliberately  planned 
to  come  away  from  home  in  order  to  give  her  an 
opportunity  to  form  some  attachment  which  would 
separate  her  from  him.  After  Julia  was  married 
could  they  live  together  as  they  had  done?  He 
had  thought  once  that  this  could  be.  The  time 
had  been  when  he  looked  forward  to  taking  her 
children  on  his  knee  as  he  might  do  those  of 
Philip,  but  that  time  was  past. 

He  knew  now  that  he  never  could  live  in  the 
house  with  Julia  and  feel  that  she  was  married  to 
another  man,  —  that  some  other  had  the  first  right 
with  her,  and  he  was  only  second  in  her  love. 
When  he  realized  this  he  was  a  very  unhappy 
man,  and  he  paced  with  long  strides  up  and  down 
the  damp  deck  of  the  steamer,  which  was  only  wait- 
ing for  daylight  to  put  out  to  sea. 

Meanwhile,  in  her  darkening  chamber,  through 
the  long  hours  of  the  winter  evening,  Julia  knelt 
motionless  with  her  face  hidden  from  sight.  She 
did  not  know  how  time  was  passing.  She  did  not 
know  that  she  was  there  ;  she  only  knew  that  lie 
had  left  her  and  that  she  was  alone. 

It  was  Edith  who  first  came  to  her  to  try  to  offer 


316  A    CARPET  KNIGHT. 

comfort,  although  she -little  knew  how  much  it  was 
needed.  She  wound  her  soft  arms  about  her  friend, 
however,  and  laid  her  cheek  to  hers,  and  by  and 
by  Julia  consented  to  lie  down,  while  Edith  sat 
beside  her  in  silent  sympathy. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

"  But  sorrow  returned  with  the  dawning  of  morn, 
And  the  voice  in  my  dreaming  ear  melted  away." 

CAMFBKLL. 

IT  was  the  middle  of  February  when  Mr. 
Drayton  sailed,  and  the  news  of  his  safe  arrival  had 
not  reached  home  before  the  day  appointed  for  Mrs. 
Davering's  "  Parlor  Opera  "  approached. 

He  had  written  once  by  the  pilot  and  once  by  a 
ship  crossed  at  sea.  Both  were  short,  affectionate 
notes  in  which  he  spoke  regretfully  of  his  enforced 
absence,  mentioned  that  the  ship  was  comfortable 
and  the  passengers  agreeable,  and  ended  with  kind 
messages. 

The  style  of  these  communications  was,  uncon- 
sciously perhaps,  much  more  reserved  than  his  tone 
had  ordinarily  been  in  writing  to  Julia,  and  what 
she  noticed  most  was  the  entire  absence  of  his  usual 
vein  of  playful  humor.  These  weeks  were  very 
hard  to  her,  for  she  did  not  fairly  understand  why 
she  suffered.  She  was  always  conscious  of  a  dull, 
weary  pain  of  spirit,  a  physical  restlessness,  and 
showed  a  tendency  to  take  offense  easily  at  little 
unintentional  acts  or  omissions  in  others,  which 
was  very  foreign  to  her  usual  disposition. 

They  were   sitting  together  in  the  library  one 


318  A    CARPET  KNIGHT. 

evening  when  two  notes  were  handed  to  Julia,  one 
for  herself  and  one  for  Edith,  who  had  left  the 
room  to  get  something  a  few  moments  before. 

"  It  is  an  invitation  to  a  theatre  party  from  Mr. 
Hazzard,"  said  Julia.  "  I  do  not  care  to  go." 

"  I  think  thou  shouldst  make  an  effort  for  thy 
friend's  sake,"  remarked  Miss  Ruthven. 

"  So  I  would,  if  I  thought  it  would  give  her 
pleasure,"  replied  Julia.  "  I  will  go  and  find  out 
how  she  feels  about  it."  She  left  the  library, 
and  presently  she  and  Edith  came  back  together. 
Edith,  it  seemed,  was  delighted  with  the  prospect 
of  the  theatre  party,  so  it  was  decided  to  accept 
Mr.  Hazzard's  invitation. 

"  By  the  bye,  Edith,"  said  Miss  Prescott,  as  she 
sat  down  to  her  writing  table,  "  what  have  you  done 
with  the  notes  ?  " 

"  I  left  mine  up-stairs." 

"  Yes,  but  what  did  you  do  with  mine  ?  " 

"  I  thought  you  took  it." 

"  No." 

"  Then  I  must  have  put  it  in  my  pocket." 

"  No  doubt,"  returned  Julia,  "  for  talking  of  notes, 
here  is  one  which  I  found  in  the  pocket  of  my  rid- 
ing habit.  You  must  have  left  it  there  after  your 
ride  last  week."  As  she  spoke  she  drew  from  her 
workbasket  the  crumpled  envelope  containing  the 
verses  returned  by  Cecil. 

Philip  recognized  his  cousin's  handwriting,  know- 
ing it  well,  and  noticed  that  Edith  received  it  with 
a  bright  blush. 


A   CARPET  KNIGHT.  319 

Immediately  the  whole  scene  connected  with  the 
note  came  back  to  him.  lie  mm 'inhered  how  em- 
barrassed she  had  seemed  before,  when  he  handed 
it  to  her,  how  surprised  he  had  himself  felt  at 
Wilmott's  having  written,  and  her  evident  pertur- 
bation afterwards.  Then  he  recalled  the  fact,  which 
he  had  learned  accidentally,  that  Edith  had  seen 
Cecil  alone  on  the  night  before  he  went  away,  and 
all  these  trifles  tended  to  confirm  a  suspicion,  which 
had  crossed  his  mind  once  or  twice  before,  that 
some  understanding,  possibly  a  secret  engagement, 
existed  between  Edith  and  Cecil.  The  only  fact 
which  seemed  to  him  inconsistent  with  such  a  pos- 
sibility was  that  of  her  having  gone  to  ride  with 
him,  on  the  very  day  after  Cecil's  departure.  He 
had  it  not  in  his  heart  to  accuse  her  of  frivolity  or 
lightness,  and  yet,  to  his  strictly  loyal  nature,  this 
little  action  and  another,  that  of  her  having  mislaid 
Cecil's  letter,  seemed  to  point  to  a  thoughtlessness 
of  conduct  of  which  he  was  loth  to  believe  her 
capable  towards  the  man  whom  she  meant  to  marry. 
It  was  all  the  harder  to  be  just  to  her,  that  he  felt 
in  his  heart  how  fatal  the  course  of  circumstances 
had  been  to  him.  "  I  do  not  believe  I  really  cared, 
before  that  ride,"  he  said  to  himself  ruefully. 

When  he  realized  that  he  had  allowed  his  inclin- 
ation to  wander  in  a  forbidden  direction,  he  resolved 
that  for  the  future  he  would  hold  it  better  in  check. 

Thus  it  happened  that  a  week  passed  without  his 
doing  more  than  to  interchange  a  hasty  greeting 
with  the  two  girls,  or  a  few  affectionate  words  with 


320  A  CARPET  KNIGHT. 

Julia  after  breakfast,  and  as  during  this  time  lie 
went  nowhere  in  society,  there  were  none  of  the 
chance  meetings  which  might  have  taken  place 
away  from  home. 

At  the  end  of  the  week,  however,  he  appeared  to 
have  modified  his  enthusiasm  for  work,  for  although 
they  saw  no  more  of  him  in  the  house  they  occa- 
sionally met  him  in  society. 

Edith  was  surprised  to  find  that  he  now  seldom 
came  to  speak  to  her,  but  he  would  stroll  into  a 
corner  of  the  room  from  which  he  could  see  that 
part  in  which  she  happened  to  be,  or,  if  chance  led 
him  to  approach  her,  would  pass  by  with  a  courteous 
bow.  She  did  not  know  how  to  interpret  this 
change  of  deportment  at  first,  and  feared  that  she 
had  unintentionally  given  him  cause  of  offense  ;  but 
after  the  first  one  or  two  occasions,  when  she  looked 
at  him  with  a  troubled,  mystified  expression,  or 
smiled  upon  him  in  his  distant  corner,  or  glanced 
up  with  surprise  when  he  passed  her,  she  ceased 
to  show  that  she  was  disturbed  by  his  conduct. 
He  thought  her  manner  serenely  indifferent. 

Meanwhile  the  season  was  at  its  height.  Edith 
and  Julia  were  pressed  with  engagements  on  all 
sides.  Breakfasts  and  luncheons,  afternoon  teas, 
dinners,  dances,  followed  one  another  in  bewilder- 
ing succession.  There  was  so  much  to  be  done 
and  so  little  time  to  do  it  in  that  the  two  girls  had 
little  opportunity  for  interchange  of  thought,  and 
each  had  imperceptibly  become  more  shut  up  in 
herself  and  less  confidential  than  in  the  early  part 
of  Edith's  visit. 


A    r.\/t/'KT  KM<:iH.  321 

This  inexperienced  young  person  hud  undergone 
an  indefinable  change  in  a  few  short  weeks  which 
struck  Cecil  Wilmott  very  forcibly  the  first  time 
that  he  saw  her  after  his  return  from  New  York, 
which  chanced  to  be  at  a  small  cotillon  party  given 
by  Miss  Mortimer.  In  the  first  place,  Edith  had 
become  the  fashion.  It  was  very  easy  for  a  pretty 
stranger  to  do  that,  especially  if  in  addition  to  an 
attractive  face  and  figure  she  had  sweet  manners 
and  a  supply  of  small  talk. 

Dinner  parties,  opera  parties,  luncheon  parties, 
were  made  for  her.  She  and  Julia  were  asked 
everywhere,  and  Edith,  at  least,  seemed  unweary- 
ing in  her  enjoyment  of  this  new  life  of  gayety,  so 
different  from  anything  which  she  had  ever  known 
before. 

Mr.  Drum  Kettleby  and  Mr.  Foxall  vied  with 
each  other  in  delicate  attentions  and  monopolizing 
suggestions  of  walks,  and  talks,  and  dances,  which 
they  strove  to  bespeak  so  long  before  the  occasion 
as  each  to  outstrip  his  rival,  and  Edith  turned  an 
amused  face  on  either  without  seeming  to  care  very 
much  to  which  she  was  talking,  or  what  he  was 
saying ;  so  very  deep  had  this  young  lady  from 
New  Rochelle  become  in  the  course  of  six  weeks  of 
fashionable  society. 

Julia  meanwhile  had  not  regained  her  usual 
looks  and  spirits.  She  went  out  almost  as  indefat- 
igably,  but  with  a  lack  of  enjoyment  which  Edith 
could  not  fail  to  detect  in  her  languid  air  and  the 
wearied  expression  with  which  she  often  returned. 
21 


322  A    CARPET  KNIGHT. 

Her  displeasure  with  Mrs.  Davering  had  somewhat 
blown  over,  but  had  left  a  coldness  of  manner  and 
of  feeling,  with  Julia,  which  nothing  as  yet  had 
dissipated.  She  had,  indeed,  consented,  with  re- 
luctance, to  be  present  at  the  representation  in  the 
drawing-room  theatre  which  Mrs.  Davering  was  to 
have  for  the  benefit  of  her  friends,  but  her  consent 
had  been  wrung  out  of  her  by  the  earnest  suppli- 
cations of  Charley  Hazzard,  who  was  all  this  time, 
poor  fellow,  falling  more  and  more  deeply  in  love, 
while  Julia  still  looked  upon  him  as  the  friend  of 
her  childhood,  —  a  good -hearted  boy.  She  con- 
sented quite  unsuspectingly  to  his  entreaties  to  be 
allowed  to  ride  with  her  sometimes,  and  she  and 
Edith  had  gone  together  to  a  theatre  party  given 
by  him  in  their  honor.  He  was,  of  course,  liable 
at  any  time  to  be  tripped  up  in  conversation  by 
this  fair  young  athlete,  and  to  find  the  heels  of  his 
wit  kicking  against  the  sky,  but  if  Julia  laughed 
at  him  she  did  it  to  his  face,  while  beneath  the 
laughing  there  was  a  hearty  liking  which  she  was 
at  no  pains  to  conceal.  Charley  was  triumphant, 
for  he  was  convinced  that  his  mother's  timely  warn> 
ing  to  him  to  declare  his  affection  for  Julia  just 
when  he  had  done  so  had  been  the  undoubted 
cause  of  Miss  Prescott's  rejection  of  Dr.  Carey; 
and  although  a  good  deal  frightened  by  her  threat 
of  remaining  an  old  maid,  he  hardly  believed  she 
would  adhere  to  her  resolution  always,  and  sooner 
or  later  he  confidently  hoped  to  win  her  hand,  hav- 
ing no  suspicion  of  the  existence  of  any  other  rival 


A    CARPET  KNKiHT.  323 

than  the  one  whose  suit  he,  by  his  clever  tactics, 
had  defeated. 

Mrs.  Davering  was  pleased  to  find  that  he  was 
very  much  interested  in  the  plan  of  the  parlor 
opera,  and  on  the  evening  before  his  mother's  en- 
tertainment, Edith  and  Julia,  who  were  sitting  with 
Miss  liuthvrn  in  the  library,  were  surprised  by 
Charley's  entrance  with  Cecil  Wilinott. 

Edith  hardly  dared  to  look  at  the  latter.  His 
coming  at  all  seemed  very  strange  to  her,  but  Julia 
evinced  more  pleasure  at  seeing  Cecil  than  she  had 
shown  at  anytliiiig  for  some  time,  so  that  Charley 
llax/ard  seemed  a  little  hurt,  and  Julia,  yielding 
to  his  persuasion,  rose  and  consented  to  go  with 
him  into  the  drawing-room  to  play  "  something." 

"  We  hardly  expected  thee  so  soon,  Cecil,"  said 
Miss  Rutlm>n,  who,  in  her  meekly  dignified  way, 
evidently  took  the  whole  credit  of  his  visit  to  her- 
self. 

"Oh,  I  got  back  a  week  ago,"  replied  Cecil. 
w  It  was  a  little  sooner  than  I  expected,  myself,  but 
I  came  in  obedience  to  a  summons  from  my  lady 
mother." 

"  I  saw  you  at  Miss  Mortimer's  party  the  other 
evening,  Miss  Arnold,"  he  added,  turning  to  Edith, 
"  but  I  think  you  did  not  see  me." 

Edith  blushed,  but  said  nothing,  so  Miss  Ruth- 
ven  took  up  the  conversation  again. 

"  Thou  hast  not  told  us  why  thy  mother  sent  for 
thee,"  she  said. 

u  Heaven  knows  why !  "  returned  Cecil,  and  then 


324  A   CARPET  KNIGHT. 

noticing  that  the  old  lady  looked  quite  shocked,  he 
added  hastily,  "  She  meant  it  all  right,  of  course. 
She  had  engaged  nay  services  to  Mrs.  Davering,  it 
seems,  as  stage  manager  and  general  sufferer  for 
all  the  faults  of  a  somewhat  faulty  performance  at 
the  little  theatre." 

"  That  is  where  Julia  and  thee  are  going  together 
to-morrow  evening,  my  dear,  is  it  not  ?  "  asked  Miss 
Euthven,  turning  to  Edith,  who  saw  that  she  must 
enter  into  the  conversation. 

"  Yes,  Miss  Ruthven,  that  is  where  we  promised 
to  go.  Who  sings  in  the  operetta,  Mr.  Wilmott  ?  " 
she  asked,  lifting  her  eyes  to  his  face  for  the  first 
time. 

"  I  hardly  know,"  said  Cecil,  "  the  performers 
have  been  changed  so  often.  Charley  and  Mrs. 
Percy  take  the  principal  parts.  Mrs.  Davering 
wanted  me  to  sing  baritone,  but  I  respectfully  de- 
clined. If  you  only  knew  how  tired  I  am  of  the 
sound  of  it  you  would  not  mention  the  word  oper- 
etta !  "  he  exclaimed  impatiently. 

Edith  laughed. 

"Why,  the  sound  is  the  very  thing  of  which 
thou  shouldst  not  tire,"  said  Miss  Ruthven  reprov- 
ingly. 

"  I  am  afraid  you  are  too  critical,"  said  Edith. 

"I  should  like  to  hear  your  opinion  on  that 
point  when  you  had  sat  through  a  rehearsal,"  said 
Cecil  grimly. 

Just  then  Miss  Ruthven  rose  and  gathered  up 
her  work,  and  left  the  room. 


A   CARI'l-lT  KX1CIIT.  325 

Edith  became  very  intu-li  absorbed  in  some  lamp- 
lighters which  she  \viis  making.  Cecil  took  Miss 
Ruthven's  seat,  a  little  nearer  to  her  than  he  had 
been  before. 

"  I  am  glad  to  have  this  opportunity  of  speaking 
to  you,  Miss  Arnold,"  he  said,  "  for  there  is  some- 
thing which  I  want  to  say." 

She  glanced  up  at  him  with  a  shade  of  appre- 
hension which  he  did  not  fail  to  detect. 

"You  need  not  be  afraid  that  I  am  going  to 
renew  the  conversation  which  we  had  when  I  last 
saw  you,"  he  said  satirically,  "  but  what  I  have  to 
say  to  you  certainly  bears  upon  that.  It  assumes 
that  what  took  place  that  evening  may  not  have 
deprived  you  of  all  friendly  feeling  for  me.  Has 
it  or  has  it  not  ?  " 

"  Surely  not,"  she  said. 

"  Then,"  pursued  Cecil,  "  perhaps  you  may  like 
to  know  that  I  thought  very  seriously  about  all  that 
had  passed  between  us,  afterwards,  and  it  seemed 
to  me  that  you  were  quite  right  in  accusing  me  of 
infirmity  of  purpose." 

«*  I  did  not  say  that." 

"  You  may  not  have  used  those  words,  but  you 
expressed  that  idea  ;  and  I  resolved  that  if  you 
would  accept  me  for  a  friend,  instead  of  a  lover,  I 
would  try  to  prove  to  you  that  I  had  a  little  more 
backbone  than  you  supposed." 

Edith  was  much  moved  by  this  confession. 

"  You  are  very  good  to  care  what  I  think  of 
you,"  she  said. 


326  A    CARPET  KNIGHT. 

"  Then  you  will  let  me  be  your  friend  ?  " 

"  I  will  indeed."  She  put  her  hand  in  his 
calmly  and  gently,  and  so  he  went  away. 

The  whole  of  this  short  interview  with  Cecil 
came  back  to  Edith  quite  distinctly  that  night  when 
she  was  going  to  bed,  and  she  became  vividly  aware 
that  Cecil  was  no  longer  the  magician  that,  with  all 
his  faults,  he  had  been  to  her  before  he  went  away. 
He  appeared  an  agreeable  young  man,  nothing 
more.  Was  it  because  she  had  been  going  more 
into  society  merely,  meeting  more  people  and  grow- 
ing accustomed  to  being  admired?  She  was  very 
sure  that  it  was  not,  and  quite  indignant  with  her- 
self for  such  a  thought.  Then  was  it  for  some 
particular  reason,  conscience  asked,  on  account  of 
some  special  person  who  had  absorbed  her  interest? 

"  Oh  dear,  no !  "  she  said  half  aloud,  and  with 
an  effort  to  escape  further  self-examination  she  rose 
and  moved  to  the  toilet-table,  where  she  began 
combing  and  braiding  her  long,  fair  hair,  but  her 
own  countenance,  which  she  saw  reflected  in  the 
mirror  opposite  wore  a  very  shame-faced  expres- 
sion. 

In  truth,  she  suddenly  realized  that  there  was  a 
person  who  had  begun  lately  to  monopolize  much 
of  her  thoughts,  and  that  for  the  last  ten  days,  she 
had  noticed  his  looks,  his  manner,  where  he  sat  or 
stood,  with  a  distinctness  which  provoked  her  with 
herself.  She  extinguished  the  gas  and  jumped  into 
bed,  with  a  determination  to  turn  her  mind  in  some 
more  profitable  direction  for  the  future ;  but  just  as 


A   CARPET  KNUillT.  327 

she  was  falling  asleep  she  was  aroused  by  the 
sound  of  footsteps  and  started  up  to  see  a  bright 
light  shining  from  the  crevice  beneath  her  door. 

She  sprang  out  of  bed,  lit  the  gas,  and  opening 
the  door,  was  surprised  to  see  Julia  in  her  dark 
red  drearing-gown,  with  her  feet  thrust  into  a  pair 
of  loose  slippers,  and  a  lighted  candle  in  her  hand. 

"  Why,  what  is  the  matter  ?  "  she  cried,  for  there 
was  a  strange,  wild  look  in  Julia's  face  which 
frightened  her,  and  her  hand,  when  Edith  grasped 
it,  was  quite  cold. 

Julia  came  in  slowly,  without  speaking,  and  set 
down  the  candle,  looking  about  her  as  she  did  so 
with  wide,  staring  eyes. 

"  Speak  to  me,  Julia,"  said  Edith.  "  What  is 
it?" 

"  I  had  to  come  to  you,"  she  answered,  in  a  low, 
horror-stricken  voice. 

"Of  course,  it  was  quite  right  to  come  to  me, 
if  you  were  troubled  about  anything." 

"  I  could  not  bear  it !  I  could  not  stay  alone  with 
it !  "  exclaimed  Julia,  still  speaking  low,  but  with  a 
tone  in  which  there  seemed  pent  up  such  an  inten- 
sity of  suffering  that  Edith,  moved  to  pity,  put  her 
two  arms  about  her,  and  drew  her  to  the  bed, 
where  they  sat  down  side  by  side. 

"  You  certainly  should  not  be  alone,"  Edith 
said.  "  Will  you  not  tell  me  what  it  is  which  has 
disturbed  you  so  ?  " 

Julia  did  not  answer  for  a  moment,  but  turned 
her  head  round  again  and  looked  about  the  room 


328  A    CARPET  KNIGHT. 

in  all  directions ;  then  she  hid  her  face  on  Edith's 
shoulder. 

"  Oh  !  Edith,  I  can  always  see  it,  even  when  I 
close  my  eyes  !  "  she  cried. 

"  For  Heaven's  sake,  Julia,  tell  me  what  it  is  you 
see  !  Have  you  been  dreaming  ?  Or  has  something 
really  happened  ?  " 

"  It  was  all  so  sudden,"  said  Julia.  "  I  was  sit- 
ting by  the  fire  in  my  dressing-gown,  thinking,  as  I 
often  do.  I  had  been  sitting  a  long  while,  I  hardly 
know  how  long,  when  I  heard  a  voice  behind  me 
speak  my  name,  —  and  Edith,  it  was  Mr.  Drayton's 
voice !  Oh,  you  need  not  look  incredulous,  —  I 
heard  it  quite  distinctly ;  so  I  jumped  to  my  feet, 
and  the  whole  side  of  the  room  was  dark,  but  in  the 
midst  I  saw  him  standing  in  a  gleam  of  light.  I 
knew  it  was  my  guardian,  and  he  was  holding  out 
his  arms  to  me  as  he  did  on  that  last  day,  but  I 
could  not  go  to  him,  something  held  me  back,  and 
in  an  instant  he  was  gone,  and  then  there  was  a 
roaring  in  my  ears  like  the  wild  rushing  of  water, 
and  I  kept  seeing  his  face  before  me  everywhere, 
as  if  floating  upon  the  air,  whichever  way  I  turned, 
but  oh  !  so  changed  !  Edith,  Edith  !  something  has 
happened  !  " 

She  shrank  still  closer  to  her  friend  and  clung  to 
her  with  a  sort  of  desperate  fear,  which  was  so  real, 
that  it  infected  Edith  herself,  in  spite  of  her  efforts 
to  be  calm. 

"  Hush,  dear  Julia,  it  was  only  a  dream !  "  she 
said.  "  There  is  nothing  in  it,  dear." 


A   CARPET  KNIGHT.  329 

She  tried  to  soothe  her  as  she  would  a  frightened 
child,  but  Julia  shook  her  head. 

"  I  am  sure  it  was  his  voice,"  she  said.  "  It  is 
not  like  any  other !  " 

44 1  think  that  you  probably  dropped  asleep  with- 
out knowing  it,"  replied  Edith,  "and  you  were 
suddenly  awakened  by  some  sound  in  the  street. 
Some  one  may  even  have  spoken  your  name,  — 
but  not  to  you,  dear,  to  some  one  else,  —  and  you 
know  your  guardian's  voice  so  well  that  it  was  quite 
natural  you  fancied  that  you  heard  him  call.  It  is 
easy  to  be  deceived  into  thinking  that  we  hear  a 
sound  with  which  we  are  very  familiar,"  proceeded 
this  young  philosopher. 

44  But  is  it  not  very  strange,  at  any  rate,"  said 
Julia,  "  that  nearly  two  weeks  have  passed  and  he 
has  not  been  heard  from  ?  " 

44 1  thought  you  had  heard  from  him  twice." 

44  Oh,  yes,  on  the  way  ;  but  I  mean  that  we  have 
not  heard  of  his  safe  arrival." 

44  There  would  not  be  time  for  you  to  hear  of 
that ;  certainly  not  by  letter." 

44  No,  not  by  letter,  but  by  telegram.  The  arri- 
val of  a  steamer  is  always  telegraphed  by  cable,  and 
I  have  been  looking  vainly  for  any  notice  of  the 
Bohemia.'' 

44  Ah,  now  I  see  the  whole  cause  of  your  bad 
dream !"  exclaimed  Edith.  44You  have  been  wor- 
rying yourself  about  that  without  ever  saying  a 
word  to  any  one,  and  the  idea  of  some  misfortune 
has  taken  hold  of  your  imagination.  Depend  upon 
it  you  will  hear  to-morrow  that  all  is  well." 


330  A   CARPET  KNIGHT. 

"  Do  you  really  hope  that  ?  "  asked  Julia,  rais- 
ing her  head  and  looking  into  her  friend's  face  very 
earnestly. 

"  Certainly  I  do,"  she  answered  cheerily.  "Now 
get  into  bed  with  me,  dear,  and  we  will  go  to  sleep 
and  forget  all  about  it." 

"  You  are  very  good  to  me,"  said  Julia  wearily. 

"  Ah,  dear  Julia,  you  do  not  know  how  I  love 
you." 

"  And  so  do  I  love  you,"  returned  Julia,  as  a 
softer  light  came  into  her  anxious  eyes.  "  But  I 
am  afraid  I  cannot  go  to  sleep." 

Nevertheless,  Edith  persuaded  her  to  try,  and  in 
a  shorter  time  than  she  had  hoped,  Julia  did  sleep 
quite  soundly,  as  though  worn  out  with  emotion, 
her  hand  still  clasped  in  her  friend's  and  their 
heads  resting  on  the  same  pillow ;  but  Edith  lay 
awake  for  a  long  while. 

In  spite  of  the  good  sense  and  decision  with 
which  she  had  succeeded  in  quieting  Julia's  agita- 
tion, the  story  which  she  told  made  a  strong  im- 
pression on  Edith's  mind,  and  it  was  several  hours 
before  she  succeeded  in  throwing  it  off. 

At  last  she  too  slept,  and  did  not  wake  until 
quite  late  the  next  morning,  when  to  her  surprise 
she  found  Julia  up  and  dressed,  but  with  the  same 
sad,  patient  face  as  usual,  for  the  day  had  brought 
no  news. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

"  Like  ships  that  sailed  for  sunny  teles, 
Bat  never  came  to  shore." 

HARTBT. 

ON  returning  from  his  office  the  next  afternoon 
"Philip  glanced  into  the  drawing-room  before  going 
up  to  dress  for  dinner,  and  saw  Edith  sitting  with 
her  back  to  him,  looking  out  of  the  window.  She 
was  all  alone,  and,  yielding  to  an  impulse,  he  al- 
lowed himself  the  unusual  pleasure  of  going  in  and 
addressing  her. 

She  started  slightly  at  the  sound  of  his  voice, 
and  answered  his  greeting  with  a  look  of  surprise 
which  led  him  to  realize  more  than  he  had  before 
how  odd  his  conduct  must  have  appeared  to  her  of 
late.  He  grew  suddenly  shy  under  the  conscious- 
ness, and  began  to  wonder  what  he  could  say  which 
would  make  it  seem  natural  that  he  should  have 
spoken  to  her  now. 

"  Would  you  like  to  see  the  evening  paper  ?  "  he 
asked  at  last,  unable  to  think  of  anything  less  stu- 
pid. 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Edith,  tranquilly,  "  I  have 
seen  it." 

"Indeed?" 

"  Yes,  Julia  sent  for  it,"  replied  Edith  gravely. 


332  A    CARPET  KNIGHT. 

"  She  is  hoping  for  a  telegram  to  announce  the  ar- 
rival of  the  Bohemia." 

"  Ah,  I  see.  We  should  hardly  hope  for  that 
yet,  I  think,"  said  Philip. 

"  Do  you  really  not  think  so  ? "  she  inquired 
eagerly,  glad  of  this  opportunity  of  allaying  her 
doubts. 

"  Certainly  not.     Why  do  you  ask  ?  " 

"I  think  Julia  is  a  little  anxious  at  not  hearing." 

"  Oh,  there  is  no  reason  for  anxiety,"  said  Philip, 
sitting  down  beside  her  on  the  sofa  as  he  spoke. 
"  The  Bohemia  belongs  to  a  line  which  is  proverb- 
ially slow  and  sure ;  besides,  voyages  are  always 
longer  at  this  season  of  the  year." 

"  I  am  very  glad  to  hear  you  say  so,  in  order  to 
be  able  to  speak  more  reassuringly  myself.  I  con- 
fess that  Julia's  fears  had  made  me  a  little  ner- 
vous." 

"  You  must  remember  that  Julia  has  an  anxious 
temperament,"  returned  Philip,  smiling.  "  I  was 
afraid  she  would  begin  to  look  for  news  long  be- 
fore it  could  get  to  us,  but  it  has  seemed  to  me 
of  late  that  she  was  in  better  spirits.  Whom  did 
I  hear  her  playing  to  last  evening  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Hazzard  and  Mr.  Wilmott  were  both 
here,"  said  Edith,  "  and  Mr.  Hazzard  urged  her  to 
play,  but  I  thought  she  only  did  it  not  to  seem 
disobliging." 

"  Possibly,"  answered  Philip.  "  Have  you  seen 
much  of  Cecil  Wilmott  since  he  came  back  ?  "  he 
added,  with  an  attempt  at  carelessness. 


4   CARPET  KNIGHT.  333 

"  He  came  to  see  us  for  the  first  time  last  even- 
ing." 

Philip  knew  he  was  on  dangerous  ground,  but 
the  temptation  was  tremendous.  He  wanted  to 
know  the  worst. 

"  I  want  to  ask  you  a  question,"  he  said. 

"What  is  it?" 

"  Will  you  tell  me  whether  you  had  not  met 
Cecil  before  since  his  return  ?  " 

"  Why  do  you  ask  me  that?  " 

He  was  silent  for  a  moment,  then  he  said,  — 

"  I  had  several  reasons  for  asking,  but  pray  do 
not  answer  if  you  do  not  wish  to  do  so." 

"  I  had  not  met  him  before,"  replied  Edith,  slowly. 

"  Or  heard  of  his  change  of  fortune  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know  what  you  mean." 

"  I  meant  that  I  did  not  know  whether  Cecil  had 
told  you  that  he  had  suddenly  come  into  quite  a 
large  sum  of  money  through  the  generosity  of  his 
uncle  in  New  York." 

"  He  did  not  tell  me,"  she  answered  gravely ; 
"  but  I  am  sincerely  glad  to  hear  it." 

"  Cecil  has  done  a  very  fine  thing,  I  think,"  said 
Philip,  "  for  as  soon  as  he  got  home  he  had  a  deed 
executed  by  which  he  settled  two  thirds  of  this 
money  permanently  on  his  mother  and  sister." 

"Did  he  really?"  cried  Edith,  with  a  look  of 
keen  pleasure.  "  Do  you  know  that  you  have  made 
me  very  happy  by  telling  me  that  ?  " 

"  I  am  glad  to  have  been  the  means  of  giving 
you  pleasure,"  returned  Philip,  with  just  a  touch  of 


334  A   CARPET  KNIGHT. 

bitterness,  and  then  took  himself  to  task  for  his 
folly.  He  had  wished  to  tell  her  himself  of  this 
good  action  of  his  rival,  taking  a  sort  of  sad  com- 
fort in  the  fact  that,  with  all  his  faults,  Cecil  was  a 
better  fellow  than  many  persons  had  given  him 
credit  for,  but  the  sight  of  her  joy  at  hearing  it 
was  hard  to  witness,  so  inconsistent  is  weak  human 
nature  even  in  the  strongest  and  best  of  us. 

After  spending  the  early  hours  of  that  evening 
in  working  as  usual,  Philip  returned  to  the  house 
at  nine  o'clock,  and  had  just  dressed  to  go  to  the 
Drawing-room  Theatre,  where  he  had  promised  to 
join  Edith  and  Julia,  when  his  attention  was  ar- 
rested by  a  shout,  heard  through  his  window,  of  a 
newspaper  boy,  who  was  passing  on  the  opposite 
side  of  the  street. 

" '  Evening  Telegraph ! '  Extra  edition !  Terri- 
ble disaster  at  sea !  Midnight  collision  in  a  fog  ! 
The  steamer  Bohemia  sunk  off  the  coast  of  Ire- 
land !  " 

Philip  rushed  to  the  window  and  flung  it  open. 
The  voice  was  growing  more  distant,  but  the  next 
words  came  to  him  only  too  distinctly,  "  Sixty  per- 
sons supposed  to  be  lost !  Others  rescued  by  the 
Cornwall."  Philip's  heart  gave  a  great  thump 
•against  his  ribs  and  then  seemed  to  stand  still. 
For  one  instant  he  felt  as  if  he  could  not  move. 
The  next,  he  was  tearing  headlong  down  the  stairs, 
—  was  in. the  street  and  in  hot  pursuit  of  the  news- 
boy. Then  he  had  overtaken  him,  and  was  return- 
ing with  a  copy  of  the  fatal  paper.  He  came  back 


A   CARPET  KXICHT.  335 

into  the  house  quietly,  for  lie  had  left  the  street- 
door  open,  ami  unfolded  it  Ixmeath  the  gas-light  in 
the  entry  with  a  trembling  hand. 

There  was  the  same  heading,  word  for  word, 
which  the  boy  had  repeated.  There  was  no  mis- 
take in  the  name  of  the  steamer,  as  he  had  hoped. 

The  account  of  the  accident  was  dated  from  Lon- 
don, on  the  morning  of  that  same  day.  Philip  read 
it  with  a  sinking  heart. 

"  The  Anglo- American  steamer  Bohemia  [Cap- 
tain Waterman]  which  sailed  from  New  York  on 

the of  February,  for  Liverpool,  and  arrived  at 

Queenstown  at  daybreak  on  the  llth  instant,  came 
in  collision  last  night  at  midnight,  during  a  heavy 
fog,  about  eight  miles  east  of  Dungarvan,  in  St. 
George's  Channel,  with  a  vessel  reported  to  be  the 
Scotch  Mull  of  Cantyre,  from  Glasgow  for  Cork, 
in  ballast.  The  Bohemia  at  the  same  time  was  on 
her  way  from  Queenstown  to  Liverpool.  One  hun- 
dred and  fifty-four  of  her  passengers  and  crew 
were  saved  by  the  iron  screw  steamer  Cornwall, 
and  landed  at  Liverpool. 

"  The  following  is  a  list  of  the  saved  passengers 
as  far  as  known." 

Then  came  the  list  of  persons  who  had  been 
picked  up  by  the  steamer  Cornwall,  and  carried 
safely  into  port.  Philip  looked  in  vain  among 
them  for  his  father's  name.  Further  details  would 
be  furnished  whenever  received,  the  paper  said. 
That  was  all  the  comfort  that  it  gave  him.  • 

As  he  still  stood  staring  blankly  at  it,  feeling  too 


336  A   CARPET  KNIGHT. 

much  stunned  to  think,  the  door  of   the  library 
opened  and  Miss  Ruthven  came  out. 

"  I  thought  it  was  thy  step,  Philip,  which  passed 
in  such  haste." 

"  Yes,  Aunt  Ruthven." 

"  What  is  the  matter,  Philip  ? "  she  asked. 
"  Thou  dost  not  look  well." 

"  Oh !  Aunt  Ruthven,  something  dreadful  has 
happened." 

"  Come  hither,  Philip.  What  hast  thou  there  ? 
A  newspaper  ?  " 

Philip  came  close  to  her  and  took  her  withered 
hand.  He  felt  very  much  like  laying  his  head  on 
her  shoulder  and  giving  way  to  his  grief,  as  he 
might  have  done  in  years  gone  by,  when  he  would 
come  to  his  old  aunt  with  his  childish  troubles, 
but  he  strove  to  remember  that  he  was  a  man  and 
must  guard  against  too  sudden  a  shock  to  her. 

"  What  is  that  ?  "  she  said  again. 

"  It  is  this  evening's  paper,  Aunt  Margaretta, 
and  there  is  something  in  it  which  has  made  me 
very  anxious." 

"  What  is  it  about,  my  dear  ?  " 

"  About  my  father,"  he  said. 

"  Something  concerning  his  business,  Philip  ? 
Has  something  gone  wrong  with  any  of  the  trusts 
which  he  left  in  thy  keeping  ?  " 

"  No,  thank  God,  it  is  not  his  honor,  but  it  is 
bad  enough." 
•     "  No  danger  to  his  life  ?  "  she  asked  faintly. 

"  There  has  been  an  accident  to  the  ship  in  which 


A   CARPET  KNIGHT.  337 

he  sailed.     He  may  be  saved,  of  course,  but  his 
name  is  not  mentioned." 

"  What,  then  ?  Algernon  is  not  lost  ?  Speak, 
Philip !  " 

"  1  hope  not,  Aunt  Kuthven,  but  I  do  not  know." 

"  Ah !  my  poor  boy,"  cried  the  old  woman, 
stretching  towards  him  her  trembling  arms.  Philip 
led  her  to  a  chair  in  the  drawing-room  and  knelt 
beside  her  with  his  head  in  her  lap. 

"  How  can  I  bear  the  uncertainty  ?  "  he  asked. 
"  How  can  I  tell  Julia?  " 

"  Strength  will  be  given  thee,  my  son.  God  will 
not  forsake  thee,"  she  said,  tenderly  enfolding  him. 
"Oh  !  Algernon,  Algernon,"  she  murmured,  "  that 
I  should  outlive  thee  !  " 

Philip  soon  started  up  and  began  pacing  the 
room. 

"I  wish  I  could  avoid  speaking  to  Julia,"  he 
said,  "  until  we  know  more.  There  may  be  better 
news  in  the  morning." 

"  Yet  would  it  be  kinder  that  she  should  hear  it 
from  thee  than  from  a  stranger,"  returned  Miss 
Ruthven.  "  If  it  is  hi  the  paper,  may  not  this 
report  reach  Julia  at  any  moment  ?  " 

"  That  is  true  !  "  cried  Philip.  "  I  must  go  to 
her  at  once.  Good  night,  dear  aunt." 

"  Good  night,  Philip." 

As  he  strode  through  the  street  in  the  midst  of 
his  misery  and  doubt,  the  wish  again  occurred  to 
him  that  he  could  save  Julia  the  anxiety  which  he 
was  suffering. 

22 


338  A   CARPET  KNIGHT. 

"  If  I  could  only  get  her  safely  home  !  "  he  said 
to  himself.  "  If  I  could  only  get  her  home." 

He  made  his  way  up-stairs,  when  he  reached  the 
Theatre,  and  through  the  gay  throng  of  people 
who  stood  about  the  entrance  of  the  auditorium. 

There  was  a  scene  being  enacted  at  that  mo- 
ment. Mrs.  Percy,  who  performed  the  part  of  a 
peasant  girl,  was  singing,  and  coquetting  with  her 
own  sweet  reflection  in  a  spring  of  mimic  water. 
Mr.  Hazzard,  her  valiant  adorer,  was  dressed  as  a 
French  soldier,  and  watching  her  from  a  stage 
concealment.  Edith  and  Julia  were  sitting  beside 
Mrs.  Davering  and  fortunately  not  very  far  for- 
ward in  the  audience.  Julia,  who  had  the  inside 
seat,  looked  pale  and  weary.  Her  eyes  had  a  sad, 
far  away  expression  which  showed  that  she  was  not 
in  sympathy  with  the  scene  about  her. 

Edith,  on  the  other  hand,  was  full  of  life  and 
enjoyment.  Her  face  beamed  with  animation,  and 
even  at  this  moment  Philip  was  provoked  at  the 
sight  of  Mr.  Drum  Kettleby  occupying  the  seat 
just  behind  Miss  Arnold,  and  leaning  forward  from 
time  to  time  in  the  pauses  of  the  song  to  speak  to 
her  with  amiable  patronage.  Philip  was  presently 
beside  them. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  Drum  Kettleby,"  he  said, 
hastily,  "  but  I  shall  be  greatly  obliged  if  you  will 
let  me  have  your  seat  for  a  moment." 

"  Certainly,  certainly,  my  dear  fellow,"  said  Mr. 
Drum  Kettleby.  "  Take  it  by  all  means."  Never- 
theless he  looked  at  Philip  in  some  surprise  when 


A   CARPET  KM', 111'.  339 

he  quietly  took  it  and  turned  his  back  upon  him 
without  further  cereiinmy. 

"  Turn  your  head  this  way,  Miss  Arnold,"  said 
Philip  to  Edith.  "  I  have  something  to  tell  you 
wliii-h  I  do  not  want  overheard." 

Edith  turned  her  head  instantly.  He  had  spoken 
in  a  low  v«»iee,  Imt  unconsciously  used  a  tone  of 
command  which  she  instinctively  obeyed. 

"  \Vhat  is  it?"  she  asked  quietly. 

"I  have  heard  some  bad  news,"  said  Philip, 
kt  and  I  do  not  want  Julia  to  know  it.  Do  you 
understand  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  replied  Edith.  A  sudden  change  swept 
over  her  face.  "  Do  you  wish  to  tell  me  what  the 
news  is?" 

"  It  is  about  my  father,"  said  Philip,  hurriedly. 
"  Of  an  accident  to  the  ship  in  which  he  sailed, 
but  he  himself  may  be  safe." 

Edith's  eyes  flashed  up  into  his  with  a  quick 
glance  of  sympathy  and  understanding,  which  gave 
a  kind  of  comfort. 

"  You  see  the  thing  is  in  the  evening  paper,"  he 
went  on,  "and  I  wish  above  all  things  to  guard 
against  its  reaching  Julia  accidentally.  How  can 
I  get  her  home  ?  " 

"  I  can  do  it,"  said  Edith. 

"How?" 

"  I  will  say  that  I  am  tired,  and  do  not  want  to 
go  back  to  Mrs.  Davering's  to  supper." 

"That  will  do,"  said  Philip,  "tell  her  that  I 
have  gone  to  call  the  carriage,  please." 


340  A   CARPET  KNIGHT. 

"  Had  you  not  better  speak  to  her  yourself  ?  " 

"  I  can't,"  he  answered.  "  I  am  afraid  to  have 
her  see  my  face." 

Edith  looked  up  again,  and  noticed  what  a  pale, 
stern  face  it  was. 

"  I  am  so  sorry  for  you,"  she  said  impulsively. 

"  Thank  you.  I  know  you  are.  We  must  only 
hope  that  things  are  less  dark  than  they  seem.  Do 
not  let  any  one  have  an  opportunity  of  speaking  to 
her  if  you  can  help  it.  You  will  find  'me  below." 

He  went,  and  Edith  turned  to  her  friend,  whose 
attention  happened,  very  fortunately,  to  have  been 
engaged  by  Mrs.  Davering  during  Philip's  short 
interview  with  her. 

"  Do  you  care  very  much  about  going  to  Mrs. 
Davering's  to  supper,  Julia?" 

"  No.     Why  do  you  ask  ?  " 

"I  feel  rather  tired.  Would  you  mind  if  I 
asked  you  to  come  home  with  me  now  ?  " 

"Certainly  not,"  replied  Julia.  "We  will  go 
as  soon  as  the  opera  is  ended." 

"  So  far  so  good,"  thought  Edith,  "  but  who 
might  not  come  and  talk  to  Julia  after  the  opera 
was  ended  ?  " 

"Do  you  think  it  is  necessary  to  wait  till  the 
end  ?  "  she  asked  nervously. 

"Are  you  in  such  a  hurry?  Perhaps  you  do 
not  feel  well?" 

Edith  jumped  at  the  excuse ;  anything  rather 
than  what  she  feared.  "  To  tell  you  the  truth," 
she  said,  "  I  think  the  air  is  rather  oppressive." 


A  CARPET  KNIGHT.  341 

"  I  see,"  responded  Julia.  "  You  feel  faint." 
She  looked  about  her  anxiously.  "  I  wish  Philip 
were  here.  You  know  he  promised  to  come  for  us." 

"  He  did  come  a  moment  ago,  when  you  were 
talking  to  Mrs.  Davering,"  said  Edith,  with  a  des- 
perate effort  to  appear  unconscious.  "  He  said  he 
would  wait  for  us  outside." 

"  Did  he,  indeed  ?  Then  I  will  explain  to  Mrs. 
Davering,  and  we  can  go  at  once." 

There  was  very  little  stir  made,  for  they  glided 
quietly  out  in  the  midst  of  a  loud  burst  of  applause 
at  a  duet  from  the  tenor  and  the  priina  donna. 
Philip  was  waiting  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs.  He 
offered  his  arm  instinctively  to  Julia.  It  seemed 
to  him,  poor  fellow,  that  she  needed  all  the  support 
which  he  could  give  her,  but  Julia  drew  back. 

"  Take  Edith,"  she  said.  "  She  does  not  feel 
well.  Help  her  to  the  carriage,  Philip." 

"  Do  you  not  feel  well,  Miss  Arnold  ?  "  he  asked, 
in  a  tone  of  genuine  concern.  "  Why,  I  thought "  — 
Pie  was  going  to  say  that  he  had  thought  she  was 
looking  remarkably  well,  when  a  slight  warning 
pressure  on  the  arm  which  she  had  taken  somewhat 
enlightened  him  as  to  the  cause  of  her  sudden  in- 
disposition. 

lie  was  haunted  with  the  fear  even  on  the  drive 
home  that  they  might  meet  some  belated  newsboy 
who  would  shout  the  dreadful  secret  into  Julia's 
ears  as  it  had  come  to  his,  but  they  reached  the 
house  on  Meredith  Square  without  further  incident. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

"  But  oh,  the  heavy  change  now  thou  art  gone  ! 
Now  thou  art  gone  and  never  must  return  !  " 

MILTON. 

THE  morning  papers  brought  no  comfort  to 
Philip.  He  rose  early,  after  a  sleepless  night,  and 
walked  down  to  the  news  office,  giving  orders  that 
his  absence  should  not  be  mentioned,  and  that  all 
papers  were  to  be  taken  unopened  to  his  bed- 
chamber, especially  that  they  were  not  to  be  shown 
to  Julia  under  any  circumstances. 

When  he  reached  home  again  he  had  realized 
that  almost  all  the  little  hope  to  which  he  had 
clung  was  gone.  He  could  not  conceal  his  great 
bereavement  from  himself  or  keep  it  from  others 
any  longer.  The  first  thing  that  he  heard  in  com- 
ing into  the  house  was  that  Julia  had  asked  for 
the  paper,  and  being  told  that  Philip  was  "reading 
it,"  had  requested  Rogers  to  get  her  another.  The 
poor  old  family  servant,  only  half  suspecting  that 
some  great  misfortune  hung  over  the  house,  was 
beside  himself  to  know  what  to  do,  when,  fortu- 
nately, his  young  master  came. 

Philip  went  into  the  dining-room  where  Julia 
was  sitting  by  the  fire  alone.  He  knew  she  was 
thinking  of  his  father,  for  this  was  an  hour  in  the 


A    CAtiWT  KXICIIT.  343 

day  peculiarly  associate*!  with  him.  Mr.  Drayton 
had  always  been  full  of  life  and  mischief  in  the 
morning,  being  so  much  more  boyish  in  this  re- 
t  than  Philip,  that  the  few  moments  before 
breakfast  seemed  quite  to  belong  to  him. 

Julia  looked  up  as  Philip  came  near  her,  with  a 
slight  start,  as  though  aroused  from  some  sad 
thought. 

"  Is  there  any  news  of  the  Bohemia,  Philip  ?  " 
she  asked. 

Philip  felt  himself  grow  pale.  "  The  ship  has 
been  heard  from,"  he  answered. 

"  How  ?     Where  ?     Has  it  arrived  safely  ?  " 

"  No.  Julia,  it  has  not  arrived."1 

"  Has  something  happened,  Philip  ?  " 

"Yes,  there  has  been  an  accident  —  at  — at  sea." 

"  I  knew  it!  "  she  exclaimed.  "O  Philip,  your 
father  —  is  he  safe  ?  Tell  me !  " 

"  I  hope  so." 

"  What  have  you  heard  ?  Where  is  the  paper  ? 
For  pity's  sake  do  not  keep  it  from  me  !  What 
hope  is  tli 

This  was  the  hardest  question  for  him  to  answer 
which  she  had  yet  asked.  Philip  opened  the  first 
of  two  folded  papers  which  he  held. 

"  This  one  came  first,"  he  said,  gently.  "  It  is 
the  account  of  a  collision.  The  Bohemia  was  run 
into  by  another  vessel  and  a  hole  made  in  her  side. 
Here  is  a  list  of  a  number  of  the  passengers  and 
crew  who  were  saved.'' 

Julia's  eye  was  upon  him  as  he  uttered  the  last 


344  A   CARPET  KNIGHT. 

words.  He  knew  only  too  well  what  it  was  asking. 
There  was  a  pause. 

"  And  his  name  is  not  there  ?  "  she  said  at  last. 

"  Not  there,  but  this  is  only  the  list  as  far  as 
known." 

"  O  God !  "  she  cried,  and  buried  her  face  in 
her  hands.  Then  suddenly  she  withdrew  them  and 
pointed  to  the  other  paper.  "  Not  there  either  ?  " 
she  asked.  "  Kead  !  Is  it  not  there  ?  " 

"  No,  Julia,  not  as  having  escaped,"  he  said, 
mournfully,  "  but  still  he  may  be  saved." 

"  Let  me  see,  please,  please,"  she  murmured ;  and 
Philip  reluctantly  gave  her  the  paper  which  had 
come  •  that  morning,  and  turned  a  little  from  her, 
for  he  was  sick  at  heart. 

This  is  what  she  read  :  — 

"  Further  particulars  of  the  Bohemia  disaster 
show  that  she  was  near  Helvick  Head,  about  three 
miles  from  shore.  She  was  struck  on  the  starboard 
side  amidships,  and  sank  in  less  than  twenty  min- 
utes. Distress  signals  were  given  and  responded 
to  by  the  Cornwall,  proceeding  up  the  Channel, 
which  made  all  haste  to  the  rescue.  There  were 
nine  boats  on  the  Bohemia,  four  of  which  were 
crushed  in  the  collision.  Five  were  got  off,  but 
one,  being  overcrowded  with  passengers,  was  sunk. 
All  the  boats  pulled  away  from  the  doomed  ship, 
leaving  the  captain,  who  refused  to  desert  his  post. 
The  last  boat  was  commanded  by  the  first  officer, 
who  did  all  he  could  to  induce  the  captain  to  leave 
the  ship. 


A    CARPET  KM  (HIT.  345 

"The  following  who  appear  on  the  steamer's  pas- 
senger list  have  not  been  accounted  for." 

"  I  thought  you  said  his  name  was  not  there," 
said  Julia  hoarsely. 

"  You  know  what  I  meant,  Julia." 

"  Then  you  saw  it  on  this  list  ?  " 

Philip  bowed  his  head.  Julia  read  on  with  a 
terrible  eagerness.  The  personal  accounts  of  sev- 
eral passengers  were  given  in  full.  She  stopped 
at  one  headed  by  the  names  of  two  ladies  whom 
she  knew  in  New  York,  and  pointed  half  way  down 
the  column  to  another  name.  Philip  had  seen  it 
too. 

The  older  of  the  two  ladies  wrote  as  follows  :  — 

"  About  forty-five  minutes  after  eleven  o'clock 
at  night,  without  the  slightest  warning  of  the  prox- 
imity of  any  vessel,  a  bark  appeared  on  our  right, 
and  crashed  into  us  just  above  the  funnel,  making 
a  big  hole.  My  daughter  and  I  were  in  our  state- 
room. We  were  awakened  by  the  crash  and  rushed 
on  deck,  where  the  boats  were  being  put  off. 
Every  one  was  crowding  into  them,  and  we  saw  one 
sunk  before  our  eyes  from  being  overloaded. 

"  We  women  were  powerless  against  the  rush  of 
strong  men,  for  many  of  the  crew  were  trying  to 
save  themselves.  We  were  beginning  to  give  up 
hope,  when  our  friend,  Mr.  Drayton,  saw  us  and 
made  way  for  us,  assisting  us  into  the  last  boat. 
We  begged  him  to  follow,  but  there  were  nearly 
forty  in  the  boat  already,  and  seeing  a  number  of 
sailors  trying  to  get  on  board,  thus  endangering 


346  A    CARPET  KNIGHT. 

the  lives  of  all,  Mr.  Drayton  cut  the  ropes  himself 
and  set  the  boat  adrift,  saying  good-by  to  us.  We 
were  too  much  laden  even  to  attempt  the  rescue 
of  any  persons  floating.  We  rowed  to  the  Corn- 
wall, which  stood  by  during  the  night. 

"  At  daylight  the  topmast  of  the  Bohemia  and 
her  fore  and  main-yards  were  visible  above  water, 
but  there  was  nobody  in  the  rigging." 

Julia  started  up  with  a  low  cry. 

"  Of  course  he  was  not  there  !  "  she  said  wildly, 
"  he  was  here!  Don't  you  see?  He  came  here." 

"  What  do  you  mean,  Julia  ?  "  asked  Philip,  be- 
wildered. 

She  clasped  her  hands  above  her  head. 

"  That  was  it,"  she  murmured,  speaking  more  to 
herself  than  to  him.  "  He  died  like  a  hero  !  Like 
a  hero  !  "  she  repeated,  with  a  wail,  "  and  he  came 
to  me !  "  Her  large,  dark  eyes  were  fixed  in  a 
sort  of  stare.  Presently  a  mist  seemed  to  come 
over  them.  She  tottered  and  stretched  out  her 
hands  to  Philip,  who  just  caught  her  as  she  would 
have  fallen  senseless  on  the  floor. 

It  was  the  beginning  of  a  long  illness,  a  pro- 
tracted fever,  in  which  Julia  lay  tossing  for  weeks 
between  life  and  death.  She  had  the  less  chance 
of  recovery,  the  doctor  said,  that  her  health  had 
been  giving  way,  and  she  had  evidently  overtaxed 
her  strength  for  weeks  before  the  shock  came. 

No  one  could  be  more  patient  and  loving  than 
Edith  in  this  time  of  trouble,  except  perhaps  Miss 


A  c A  it i '/-IT  K\K;/IT.  M47 

Ruthven.  The  two  together  devoted  themselves 
night  and  day  to  the  care  of  Julia,  hut  neither  of 
them  was  strong  enough  to  bear  the  long-continued 
strain,  and  at  last  they  were  forced  to  allow  the 
assistance  of  a  trained  nurse. 

It  was  a  sad  sight  to  see  Philip  Drayton  in  these 
days,  lie  went  about  with  the  look  of  a  man  upon 
whom  somi>  great  blow  had  fallen,  and  who  was 
stunned  by  it,  so  that  none  of  the  little  outward 
circumstances  of  life  were  real  to  him,  but  like 
things  acted  in  a  play.  He  had  never  known,  him- 
self, with  what  a  worshipful  dependence  he  looked 
up  to  his  father,  until  he  felt  that  he  was  gone. 

He  was  always  making  inquiries  and  searching 
the  papers  for  some  possible  clue,  which  should 
give  him  the  right  to  indulge  a  faint  hope  that  Mr. 
Drayton  might,  after  all,  have  escaped.  The  cap- 
tain of  the  lost  steamer,  who  had  been  picked  up 
by  a  Welsh  vessel,  floating  on  a  bit  of  wood,  and 
carried  to  Caernarvon,  was  reported  at  one  time  to 
have  said  that  he  believed  there  was  "  another 
steamer  "  near  the  wreck,  which  had  saved  many 
lives ;  but  when  this  report  was  sifted  it  proved  to 
have  been  the  Cornwall  to  which  the  captain  re- 
ferred, on  which  the  name  of  every  passenger  saved 
was  well  known  to  poor  Philip. 

Another  day  he  turned  away  with  a  shudder  from 
the  following  short  despatch,  dated  from  Dublin : 

"  One  female  and  two  male  corpses  were  landed 
yesterday  at  Tramore.  One  body  is  apparently 
that  of  an  officer  of  the  ill-fated  Bohemia,  and  one 


348  A    CARPET  KNIGHT. 

of  a  passenger,  —  it  is  thought  an  American.  His 
watch,  which  was  found  on  him,  had  stopped  at 
12.15,  no  doubt  the  hour  the  ship  went  down,  that 
fateful  night." 

Edith  Arnold,  who  happened  to  be  in  the  room, 
had  taken  the  paper  from  Philip's  hand.  She  drew 
his  attention  to  the  concluding  sentence. 

"  That  was  just  the  hour,"  she  said,  "  when  Julia 
believes  that  she  saw  him." 

"  Poor  Julia  !  "  sighed  Philip.  "  I  know  she 
thinks  that  she  saw  him." 

"  Do  you  know,  I  can  hardly  help  believing  it 
myself?" 

"  That  my  father  actually  appeared  to  Julia  ?  " 

"  You  know  she  came  to  me  on  that  very  night," 
said  Edith,  "  only  a  few  moments  afterwards,  and 
told  me  all  about  it.  I  was  impressed  even  then 
by  the  story  and  by  her  manner." 

"  I  never  heard  that  before,"  said  Philip  gravely. 
"  What  time  was  it  when  she  came  to  you  ?  " 

"  It  was  exactly  twenty  minutes  past  twelve.  I 
know,  for  I  looked  at  the  little  French  clock  on  the 
mantel-piece,  when  I  lit  my  light." 

They  were  both  silent  for  a  little  while. 

"I  shall  write  and  get  the  description  of  this 
watch,"  said  Philip,  presently.  "  If  it  seems  worth 
while,  I  will  go  to  Ireland.  Where  are  you  go- 
ing ?  "  he  asked,  as  Edith  rose. 

"  To  Julia.  She  may  want  me,"  she  said,  and 
glided  from  the  room. 

He  did  not  see  her  again  for  several  days.     She 


A   CARPET  KNKHIT.  349 


was  so  constantly  en^iged  with  Julia  that  they 
rarely  met,  except  by  accident,  or  when  he  went  to 
the  door  of  the  sick  room,  as  he  did  morning  and 
evening  to  ask  the  tidings. 

Then  he  would  interchange  a  few  whispered  sen- 
tences with  Edith  or  Miss  Ruthven.  Would  be 
told  of  u  a  little  better  night,"  "  not  quite  so  much 
fever,"  or  "  a  little  less  restlessness,"  as  the  best 
news  which  he  could  hope  to  hear,  and  go  down 
again  to  his  solitary  breakfast  or  dinner  with  a 
dull  sense  of  misery  which  was  not  the  best  incen- 
tive to  appetite.  There  was  no  denying  that  he 
suffered  very  much  from  loneliness  added  to  his 
grief.  Cecil  Wilmott  and  Charley  Hazzard  came 
constantly  to  inquire  for  Julia.  The  latter  sent 
her  the  most  beautiful  flowers,  and  carried  about 
with  him  a  veiy  mournful  face,  poor  fellow,  while 
Cecil  showed  the  sincerity  of  his  interest  in  many 
little  ways.  He  also  came  out  very  unexpectedly 
as  a  help  to  Philip  in  his  professional  cares  just  at 
this  time  ;  but  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  his  cousin 
had  really  gone  to  work  in  earnest  since  his  return, 
there  was  not  more  sympathy  between  them  than 
there  had  been. 

There  may  have  existed  a  secret  cause  for  the 
want  of  intimacy  now  which  prevented  them  from 
being  more  in  each  other's  company  ;  but  certain  it 
is  that  Philip  saw  very  little  of  Cecil  except  when 
thrown  with  him  by  the  necessities  of  business. 

As  Philip  sat  in  the  study  one  afternoon,  the 
door  opened,  after  a  muffled  ring  at  the  bell,  to  ad- 


350  A    CARPET  KNIGHT. 

mit  Rogers  with  a  card.  He  had  a  pleased  expres- 
sion as  he  handed  it  to  his  young  master,  and  Philip 
glancing  at  it  read  the  name  of  Dr.  Lawrence 
Carey. 

"  Show  him  in,  —  or  wait,  —  where  is  he  ?  I  will 
go  to  him  !  " 

Philip  opened  the  folding  doors  long  closed  be- 
tween the  library  and  drawing-room,  the  usual  ob- 
scurity of  which  was  increased  by  the  bowed  shut- 
ters of  the  front  windows,  —  a  token  that  the  house 
was  in  mourning.  Dr.  Carey  was  sitting  near  one 
of  them.  He  rose  and  came  hurriedly  towards 
Philip,  holding  out  both  hands. 

"  My  dear  fellow  !  "  was  all  he  said,  words  which 
may  be  rendered  in  a  hundred  different  tones,  but 
then  their  hands  were  clasped  together  in  a  man- 
ner which  could  not  be  mistaken. 

"  I  was  thinking  of  you  the  other  day,"  said 
Philip.  "  You  were  the  only  person  whom  I  wished 
to  see." 

"  And  Miss  Prescott  ? "  asked  Carey,  with  an 
earnest  look  of  inquiry. 

"  She  is  about  the  same.  Perhaps  a  little  less 
well  to-day." 

"  Then  she  is  not  out  of  danger  ?  " 

"The  doctor  will  not  say  so." 

Dr.  Carey  turned  his  back  to  Philip  and  walked 
to  the  window. 

"  It  was  good  of  you  to  come,"  said  Philip. 

"  I  could  not  keep  away,"  he  answered. 

"  I  am  glad  of  that,"  said  Philip  simply. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

"  How  wonderful  is  death,  — 
Death  and  his  brother  sleep !  " 

SRKLLEY. 

DR.  CAREY  stayed  two  nights  and  a  day.  His 
visit  was  a  great  comfort  to  Philip,  but  it  is  doubt- 
ful whether  he  gained  much  consolation  from  it 
himself  beyond  this,  for  Julia  steadily  grew  worse, 
and  yet  Carey  was  forced  to  return  on  the  second 
morning  after  he  had  come.  Philip  went  with  him 
to  the  train  and  promised  to  write  often,  and  so 
they  parted  with  heavy  hearts. 

Mrs.  Wilinott  and  Charlotte,  coming  to  ask  after 
Julia  the  next  afternoon,  were  shocked  by  the  ser- 
vant's answer,  — "  The  doctor  says  Miss  Julia  is 
very  low." 

••  I  must  speak  to  Mr.  Philip!  "  said  Charlotte, 
pushing  by  old  Rogers  who  would  have  closed  the 
door  again,  and  bursting  in  upon  Philip,  who  was 
sitting  alone  in  the  library,  for  Charlotte  had  a 
very  kind  heart,  but  was  not  always  considerate  of 
the  feelings  of  others.  "How  is  Julia,  really?" 
she  asked  impetuously.  "  Is  she  worse  ?  " 

"  Yes.  Charlotte." 

"  Do  you  think  she  —  cannot  live  ?  " 

"  God  knows,"  answered  Philip. 


352  A    CARPET  KNIGHT. 

"  Oh,  mother !  There  is  hardly  any  hope !  " 
cried  Charlotte,  turning  to  Mrs.  Wilmott,  who  had 
followed  and  stood  behind  her  in  the  doorway. 

Just  then  there  was  another  ring1,  and  Mrs. 
Davering's  voice  was  heard  inquiring. 

"  This  is  too  much,"  cried  Philip.  "  I  cannot 
see  that  woman !  " 

"  I  will  go  and  speak  to  her,"  said  Mrs.  Wil- 
mott. She  went  to  do  so,  and  Philip  slipped  out 
and  ran  up  stairs  at  the  same  moment,  leaving 
Charlotte  alone.  He  knew  she  intended  to  be 
kind,  but  he  could  not  bear  her  well-meant  sym- 
pathy just  then.  He  had  a  desperate  feeling  that 
he  was  being  shut  out  forever  from  Julia,  that  per- 
haps at  this  instant  her  spirit  was  passing  away, 
and  here  were  all  these  strangers  crowding  in  to 
take  possession  of  his  life,  which  had  been  spent 
near  her  and  near  his  father. 

He  crept  softly  along  the  passage  and  through 
the  room  adjoining  hers,  in  which  Miss  Ruthven 
slept,  to  the  door  of  Julia's  chamber. 

He  was  determined  to  see  her.  They  had  kept 
him  from  her  all  these  days  because  the  excitement 
would  not  be  good,  they  said :  and  what  had  come 
of  it?  Had  she  a  chance  more  of  living,  for  his 
banishment  ? 

There  was  a  screen  in  front  of  the  door,  stand- 
ing silently  behind  which,  he  could  hear  her  labored 
breathing,  and  now  and  then  a  faint  flutter,  as  of 
some  one  fanning  her.  The  light  was  dim  in  the 
room,  although  it  was  bright  enough  outside,  for  it 
was  only  four  o'clock  of  a  spring  afternoon. 


A   CARPET  KNIGHT.  353 

Peering  fearfully  from  behind  the  screen  he  saw 
that  Edith  was  by  the  bed,  which  was  just  in  front 
of  him,  and  Miss  Kuthven  and  the  nurse  \sviv 
whispering  together  in  the  doorway  of  a  room  which 
opened  on  the  other  side.  Edith  was  bending  very 
close  to  her  friend,  with  a  look  of  love  and  anguish 
which  he  coidd  not  mistake,  even  from  where  he 
stood. 

At  this  moment  his  hand  was  touched  from  be- 
hind by  some  one.  He  turned,  and  to  his  surprise 
saw  the  doctor  holding  out  something  towards 
him.  It  seemed  to  be  a  yellow  envelope.  He 
stepped  back  and  took  it  mechanically.  He  did 
not  feel  the  least  interest  in  it.  Then  he  opened 
the  envelope  in  a  stupid  sort  of  way  and  gave  a 
great  start,  putting  his  hand  over  his  mouth  to 
keep  himself  from  crying  out.  It  was  a  telegram. 

"  Is  it  true  ?  "  he  asked  of  the  doctor,  with  a 
look  of  frightened  gladness,  the  like  of  which  the 
good  man  hud  never  seen  before. 

"  I  will  soon  tell  you,"  he  answered,  stepping 
unceremoniously  behind  Philip  and  reading  the 
message  over  his  shoulder. 

It  was  dated  "Gibraltar,  March  — ,"  and  ran 
thus :  "  Rescued  by  ship  Mary  Brown,  for  this 
port.  Have  written.  ALGERNON  DRAYTON." 

"  It  is  signed  with  my  father's  name,"  said 
Philip. 

"  Yes.     It  was  evidently  sent  by  him." 

"  And  he  is  living  ?  Would  to  God  it  had  come 
sooner !  To  think  that  Julia  will  never  know !  " 

23 


354  A    CARPET  KNIGHT. 

"  Do  you  suppose  that  she  would  rejoice  in  it  as 
you  do  ?  "  asked  the  doctor. 

Philip  stared  at  the  medical  man  in  amazement. 
"  Why,  I  thought  you  understood,  doctor,  that  this 
—  this  terrible  report  was  the  whole  cause  of  her 
illness!" 

"  The  shock  —  of  course  —  I  understand  that, 
and  that  she  had  previously  been  in  a  frail  state 
of  health ;  but  was  she  very  much  attached  to  your 
father?" 

"  She  has  been  perfectly  devoted  to  him  all  her 
life,"  said  Philip,  with  tears  in  his  voice. 

"  Ah !  Well,  if  that  is  the  case,"  said  the  doctor, 
cheerfully,  "  I  think  there  is  some  hope  yet ;  other- 
wise I  should  hardly  feel  justified  in  saying  that 
there  was." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  I  mean  that  in  the  state  into  which  Miss  Pres- 
cott  has  unfortunately  sunk  in  spite  of  all  our 
efforts  to  prevent  it,  nothing  will  save  her  but  some 
great  reaction,  if  it  can  be  safely  brought  about. 
It  is  a  dangerous  remedy  in  her  weakened  condi- 
tion, but  hers  is  a  case  of  extremity.  If  she  is  not 
roused  she  will  almost  surely  pass  away  in  the  sort 
of  stupor  which  has  been  creeping  over  her  for  the 
last  twenty-four  hours." 

Philip  looked  piteously  into  the  doctor's  face. 
"  What  can  be  done  ?  "  he  asked,  "  and  how  ?  " 

"  I  think  if  she  could  only  be  made  to  realize 
your  father's  safety  all  might  yet  be  well." 

"  But  do  you  think  that  possible  ?  " 


A   CARPET  KNIGHT.  355 

"  It  is  just  possible  only,  Imt  it  is  worth  trying. 
As  she  has  not  seen  you  before,  it  might  not  be  a 
bad  idea  for  you  to  try." 

Philip  nodded.  "  I  understand,"  he  said  eagerly. 
Hi-  was  all  alertness  and  attention  now.  "How 
had  I  better  do  it?'1 

"  Suppose  you  go  in  and  take  her  the  telegram  ? 
I  will  see  that  the  other  door  is  closed,  so  that 
there  may  not  be  too  many  people,  and  will  be 
ready  here  in  case  I  am  wanted." 

He  went  out  through  the  entry,  and  Philip 
waited  until  the  door  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
chamber  was  softly  closed.  Then  he  glided  into 
the  room. 

Julia  was  lying  in  the  centre  of  a  huge,  four-post 
bedstead  with  heavy  chintz  curtains.  Her  little 
li^nre  looked  so  slight  and  frail  —  more  like  a 
child's  than  that  of  a  full-grown  woman  —  that  he 
could  hardly  believe  that  it  was  hers.  One  of  her 
poor  thin  hands  was  clasped  in  Kdith's.  That  was 
a  good  sign,  Philip  thought.  It  showed  that  she 
had  not  entirely  lost  consciousness.  But  what 
troubled  him  most  was  her  breathing,  —  it  came 
with  so  much  effort,  although  she  was  propped  up 
with  pillows. 

As  he  approached  the  bed,  Edith  looked  up  at 
him  with  tear-stained  eyes.  He  met  them  with  a 
steady  gaze.  There  was  a  sort  of  reserved  strength 
in  his  manner,  which  had  changed  utterly  in  the 
last  few  minutes,  and  seemed  to  hold  a  kind  of 
subdued  hope. 


356  A    CARPET  KNIGHT. 

He  gently  withdrew  Julia's  hand  from  Edith's, 
and  took  it  in  his  own.  Then  he  leaned  towards 
her  and  whispered  her  name. 

"Julia." 

The  dark  eyelashes  trembled,  although  her  eyes 
did  not  unclose.  He  felt  sure  she  had  heard  him. 

"  I  have  something  to  tell  you,  Julia." 

Her  eyes  opened  now  with  an  inquiring  look, 
but  they  wandered  away  from  Philip  in  an  instant, 
as  though  nothing  were  able  to  fix  her  attention. 

"  It  is  something  about  my  father,"  said  Philip. 

She  turned  her  face  slightly  towards  him,  with 
an  expression  of  apprehension. 

"  There  is  good  news,"  said  Philip. 

Her  little  hand,  which  had  lain  so  lifelessly  in 
his,  suddenly  grasped  it  spasmodically.  Her  eyes 
shone  like  •  two  stars,  and  gazed  up  at  him  with  a 
desperate  eagerness  of  entreaty. 

"  He  is  saved,  Julia." 

Her  lips  moved  now,  although  he  could  not  dis- 
tinguish what  they  said.  He  bent  over  her  and 
caught  the  words  :  — 

"  How  do  you  know  it  ?  " 

It  was  so  like  Julia  to  ask  that,  even  in  this  su- 
preme moment.  He  recognized  the  old  doubting 
spirit  which  had  haunted  her  from  childhood. 

"  He  has  telegraphed  to  me  from  Gibraltar,"  he 
answered,  holding  up  the  telegram  as  he  spoke, 
and  speaking  very  distinctly. 

The  dying  girl  uttered  a  low  cry,  —  the  first 
sound  above  a  whisper  since  the  day  before,  and 


A   CARPET  KM <; III'.  357 

withdrawing  the  hand  which  Philip  held,  clasped 
it  in  the  other  with  a  look  of  passionate  thanksgiv- 
ing. 

She  remained  in  this  attitude  for  several  mo- 
ments ;  then  her  eyes  gradually  lost  their  lustre, 
the  lids  drooped  over  them,  her  head  sank  a  little 
sideways  on  the  pillow,  the  labored  breathing 
ceased.  Was  it  sleep,  or  was  it  death  ? 

The  doctor,  who  had  entered  the  moment  that  he 
heard  her  voice,  bent  his  ear  over  her  anxiously. 
He  cautiously  inserted  his  fingers  round  the  wrist 
of  one  of  her  hands,  which  still  lay  clasped  to- 
gether on  her  breast.  He  shook  his  head  and 
asked  for  some  ammonia. 

The  nurse  went  for  it,  and,  with  old-fashioned 
prejudice,  brought  at  the  same  time  a  mirror. 
They  were  all  there  now,  —  Miss  Ruthven  standing 
behind  Philip  with  her  hand  upon  his  shoulder,  a 
mixture  of  hope  and  anxiety  upon  her  wrinkled 
face  ;  for  she  had  just  heard  of  her  nephew's  safety, 
and  ye$  seemed  in  the  dread  presence  of  the  enemy 
whom  he  had  escaped. 

While  the  doctor  was  pouring  out  the  stimulant 
the  nurse  approached  the  mirror  to  Julia's  lips. 
Every  one  bent  forward  involuntarily,  and  a  dim 
cloud  of  mist  appeared  on  the  surface  of  the  glass. 
The  doctor  managed  to  insert  a  teaspoonf  ul  of  the 
ammonia  between  her  lips,  and  a  faintly  warmer 
tint  replaced  the  deathly  pallor  of  her  face  as  she 
swallowed  it. 

"  Thank  God !  "  he  said,  below  his  breath.     He 


358  A    CARPET  KNIGHT. 

watched  her  anxiously,  and  remained  by  her  side, 
vising  every  means  of  restoration,  until  reaction  had 
become  completely  established.  At  last  he  rose, 
with  a  triumphant  smile.  "  She  will  do  now,"  he 
whispered.  "  Keep  the  room  perfectly  quiet,  and 
see  that  she  has  a  little  stimulant  from  time  to 
time.  I  will  see  her  in  the  course  of  an  hour." 

The  letter,  which  reached  Philip  a  day  or  two 
after,  was  begun  on  the  —  of  February,  on  board 
the  Mary  Brown,  and  ran  as  follows :  — 

"  MY  DEAR  SON,  —  It  distresses  me  to  think 
what  grief  and  anxiety  you  and  dear  Julia  and 
Aunt  Margaretta  will  feel  on  reading  of  the  wreck 
of  the  Bohemia,  if,  as  I  fear,  no  report  of  my 
safety  may  reach  you  at  the  same  time. 

"  I  am  saved,  however,  and  when  you  know  this 
I  trust  that  the  assurance  may  in  some  measure 
repay  you  for  the  doubt  and  apprehension  which  I 
cannot  spare  you. 

"  I  was  picked  up  by  this  vessel  on  the  night  of 
the  —  of  February,  just  as  I  had  begun  to  surren- 
der all  hope  of  ever  seeing  you  again.  The  captain 
tells  me  that  he  was  attracted  to  the  scene  of  the 
disaster  by  cries  of  distress,  and  sent  out  a  life- 
boat, which  discovered  me  and  one  other  clinging 
to  a  portion  of  the  cabin  steps,  which  were  floating, 
long  after  the  ship  had  gone  down. 

"  I  was  almost  insensible.  It  was  the  shouts  of 
my  companion  in  misfortune,  a  sturdy  young  sea- 


.i  o  i /;/•/•;/•  KM <, in:  359 

man,  which  had  arrested  the  attention  of  the 
Mary  Brown,  and  secured  our  deliverance.  No 
one  could  have  been  kinder  than  this  captain,  or 
more  indefatigable  in  his  efforts  to  restore  me  from 
the  state  of  unconsciousness  into  which  I  frequently 
relapsed  ;ifkT  my  iirst  revival :  but  when  I  realized 
my  delivery  and  told  him  of  the  anxiety  which  my 
friends  would  feel,  and  the  urgent  nature  of  the 
business  for  which  I  was  going  to  England,  I  could 
not  induce  him,  by  any  argument,  to  change  his 
ship's  course. 

"  We  were  bound  for  Gibraltar,  and  already  three 
days  out.  My  worthy  rescuer  said  that  he  was 
in  the  merchant  service  of  Great  Britain.  He  had 
his  orders,  and  they  must  be  obeyed.  I  offered 
him  a  large  sum  of  money  if  he  would  land  me 
at  any  convenient  point  in  France  or  Spain  from 
whence  I  could  communicate  with  home,  but  he 
was  immovable,  and  I  have  surrendered  myself  at 
last  to  the  prospect  of  several  weeks  of  inaction, 
only  writing  this  letter  in  the  faint  hope  of  hailing 
some  passing  ship  which  will  put  it  in  the  way  of 
rearhiug  you." 

Then  followed  a  few  words  of  gratitude  at  the 
wonderful  escape  which  he  had  made,  and  many 
messages  to  all  of  them,  especially  to  Julia. 
"Would  that  I  could  return,  myself,  with  this 
letter !  "  he  added  later,  in  a  hasty  postscript  to 
say  that  they  had  had  the  good  fortune  to  come 
alongside  of  a  sailing  vessel  from  Bordeaux,  bound 
for  New  York,  and  he  therefore  hoped  that  this 


360  A   CARPET  KNIGHT. 

missive,  which  he  sent  by  her,  would  reach  them 
in  two  or  three  weeks,  —  almost  as  soon  as  the  tel- 
egram, which  he  would  despatch  from  Gibraltar 
before  returning,  himself,  to  London. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

"  O  welcome,  pure-eyed  Faith,  white-handed  Hope, 
Thou  hovering  angel,  girt  with  golden  wings." 

MILTOV. 

THE  first  faint  promise  of  young  leaves  had 
come,  with  gray  or  reddish  tints  deepening  into 
exquisitely  varying  shades  of  palest  green,  while 
here  and  there  a  more  vivid  touch  of  the  same 
color  gave  expression  to  the  landscape,  when  Julia 
was  once  more  taken  to  drive  in  the  Park.  By  the 
middle  of  April  she  was  to  be  moved  to  Herons- 
ford  under  the  care  of  Mrs.  Wilmott  and  Char- 
lotte, while  Miss  Ruthven  bade  a  temporary  fare- 
well to  her  charge,  and  returned  to  the  old-fash- 
ioned home  which  she  had  forsaken  for  so  long. 

Edith,  too,  felt  that  she  must  go  back  to  her 
mother  and  sister,  but  she  had  promised  to  return 
in  June  and  make  Julia  a  long  visit.  Julia's  re- 
covery had  been  slow  but  steady.  When  she  was 
first  able  to  go  out  again  she  was  still  very  thin, 
but  had  regained  her  old  alertness  of  manner  and 
brightness  of  expression.  She  had  received  a  long 
letter  from  Mr.  Drayton,  telling  of  his  return  to 
London,  and  of  the  surprise  and  disappointment 
(as  he  expressed  it)  of  the  honorable  gentlemen 
who  represented  the  other  side  of  the  lawsuit  in 


362  A   CARPET  KNIGHT. 

which  he  was  engaged  at  his  escape  from  the 
machinations  of  Neptune.  Then  had  followed  a 
half  serious  and  half  joking  account  of  the  trial, 
which  he  knew  she  would  like,  and  last  of  all  a 
word  or  two  of  tenderest  regret  at  hearing  of  her 
illness,  as  he  had  done  through  a  letter  from  Miss 
Ruthven. 

"  If  I  could  only  give  you  half  the  pleasure  that 
my  reported  loss  has  given  you  pain,"  he  said,  "I 
should  be  very  happy." 

He  wrote  to  Philip  at  the  same  time  a  letter  full 
of  anxious  inquiries  and  urgent  instructions  as  to 
the  care  of  his  "  dear  little  ward,"  as  it  pleased  him 
to  designate  this  young  woman  of  twenty.  It  was 
in  accordance  with  one  of  his  suggestions  that  it 
was  decided  to  move  out  of  town  so  early,  for  he 
thought  the  country  air  would  be  good  for  Julia ; 
and  she  submitted  to  all  that  was  decreed  for  her, 
with  a  new  sense  of  contentment. 

A  great  change  had  come  over  her  since  those 
awful  weeks  of  darkness  and  despair,  when  she  lay 
tossing  on  her  bed  of  pain.  She  no  longer  seemed 
to  herself  all  alone  in  the  world  with  but  one 
friend  to  cling  to,  and  on  the  brink  of  losing  that 
one,  in  whom  her  whole  life  centered. 

She  had  been  deeply  touched  by  the  love  and  de- 
votion of  every  one  about  her  in  this  time  of  trial, 
and  felt  as  if  she  could  not  do  enough  for  Philip  or 
Edith,  or  even  Miss  Ruthven.  Indeed,  she  did  not 
think  that  she  had  known  this  lady's  real  character 
before,  long  as  they  had  lived  together ;  but  perhaps 


A    CARPET  KNK.Il  I.  363 

her  sense  of  the  goodness  of  all  these  friends  might 
not  have  been  quickened,  and  it  is  almost  sure  that 
she  never  could  have  lived  to  realize  it  fully,  but 
for  the  crowning  mercy,  which  she  believed  the 
direct  act  of  an  all-merciful  Father,  in  saving  Mr. 
Draytou's  life. 

It  seemed  to  Julia  that  if  she  did  penance  for- 
ever for  her  past  shortcomings,  she  never  could 
be  grateful  enough  for  this  great  blessing.  She 
wanted  to  begin  to  do  something  which  was  very 
hard  to  do,  at  once,  in  order  to  prove  to  herself 
how  sincerely  she  regretted  the  spirit  of  repining 
to  which  she  had  yielded  when  she  fancied  that  she 
was  forsaken,  before  the  torment  had  come  of  los- 
ing utterly  that  which  she  now  told  herself  that 
she  had  had  no  right  to  wish  for  all  her  own. 

Oddly  enough,  no  one  appeared  to  be  willing  to 
let  her  do  the  smallest  thing.  Every  one  was  gen- 
tle and  kind  and  considerate.  Every  one  thought 
for  her  and  arranged  everything,  so  that  there  was 
nothing  for  Julia  to  do  but  to  accept  their  arrange- 
ments, and  this  at  least  she  did  with  the  best  grace. 

The  parting  with  Edith  was  one  of  the  hardest 
things  which  she  had  to  look  forward  to,  but  even 
that  was  sweetened  by  the  hope  of  her  speedy 
return. 

"  You  will  write  soon,  dear  ?  "  she  said,  as  they 
stood  together  in  the  entry,  Edith  in  her  traveling 
dress,  while  Rogers  was  taking  down  her  bags  to 
put  into  the  cab,  and  Philip  awaited  her  on  the 
doorstep. 


A    CARPET  KNIGHT. 

"  Of  course  I  will." 

"  And  often  ?  " 

"  Very  often." 

"I  wish  thee  a  very  pleasant  journey,  my  child," 
said  Miss  Ruthven,  whom  Edith  turned  to  next, 
"  and  although  I  do  not  know  thy  mother,  it  will 
please  me  to  be  mentioned  to  her  as  one  who  will 
retain  an  affectionate  remembrance  of  her  child." 

Edith  kissed  the  old  lady  warmly  and  then  came 
the  farewell  to  Philip.  She  held  out  her  hand 
to  him,  but  Philip  smiled  and  shook  his  head, 
although  he  seemed  ready  enough  to  take  the  hand 
if  she  had  not  withdrawn  it. 

"  You  do  not  get  rid  of  me  so  quickly,"  he  said. 
"  I  am  going  with  you." 

"  Of  course,  Edith,"  said  Julia,  "  Philip  must 
see  you  to  the  station.  You  might  otherwise  have 
some  romantic  adventure,  such  as  the  one  you  had 
when  you  came  to  us  this  winter.  Do  you  not 
remember?  We  bave  found  out  that  you  are  a 
young  lady  who  requires  very  sharp  looking  after." 

Edith  laughed  and  blushed  in  spite  of  herself. 
She  had  a  very  tell-tale  complexion,  which  was  al- 
ways producing  false  appearances,  especially  for 
Philip's  benefit,  as  it  seemed.  He  noticed  the 
blush  as  he  helped  her  into  the  carriage,  and  when 
the  last  adieus  were  spoken  and  they  were  driving 
from  the  door  his  anxiety  got  the  better  of  his  dis- 
cretion. 

"  Did  Cecil  Wilmott  come  to  say  good-by  to 
you?"  he  inquired. 


A    CARPI.T  KMGHT.  365 

"  Why  do  you  ask  me  that  .' " 

"  In  the  hope  that  you  will  answer  me." 

"  Does  that  mean  for  curiosity?  " 

"  It  means,  rather,  for  information.  I  have  a 
reason  for  wishing1  to  know  what  I  ask." 

"  What  possible  reason  can  there  be?  " 

"  It  would  be  hard  for  me  to  tell  you  that,  but 
you  will  answer  me  or  not,  exactly  as  you  please, 
of  course." 

"  As  it  happens  I  prefer  to  do  so.  Mr.  Wilmott 
did  come  last  evening,"  she  said  proudly,  "  and  I 
was  sorry  to  say  good -by  to  him." 

Her  manner  puzzled  Philip,  as  it  had  always. 

"  I  think  I  was  wrong.  After  all,  I  am  afraid  I 
had  no  right  to  ask  you  these  questions,"  he  said. 
"  Will  you  forgive  me  ?  " 

He  turned  towards  her  as  he  spoke,  but  she 
avoided  looking  at  him. 

"  Not  unless  you  will  tell  me  why  you  wanted  to 
know." 

"  Will  it  not  do  if  I  promise  never  to  offend 
again  ?  " 

"  I  should  like  very  much  to  know  what  your 
reason  is,"  she  answered,  playing  with  the  handle 
of  her  closed  parasol. 

"  If  you  will  say  that  you  forgive  me,  I  will  tell 
you,"  said  Philip,  with  a  change  in  his  voice  ;  but 
just  at  this  moment  the  carriage  stopped  at  the  sta- 
tion. 

"  I  am  sure  it  must  have  been  difficult  for  you 
to  leave  your  important  law  business  to  come  with 


366  A    CARPET  KNIGHT. 

me  to-day,"  she  remarked,  when  they  were  waiting 
to  take  the  train. 

"  I  wanted  to  come." 

"  You  are  certainly  fortunate  in  one  respect," 
she  said.  "  You  always  want  to  do  amiable  things. 
You  must  be  naturally  benevolent,  or  perhaps  you 
have  a  high  sense  of  duty  ;  now  I  am  always  want- 
ing not  to  do  the  things  which  I  ought  to  do." 

"  Such  as  what,  for  instance?  " 

"  Oh,  I  do  not  know,  there  are  a  hundred  of 
them.  I  wanted  very  much  not  to  go  to  see  Mrs. 
Davering  to  bid  her  good-by." 

"  I  should  have  had  the  same  wish,"  said  Phil- 
ip. 

"  It  would  have  been  nothing  in  you,  but  it  was 
shockingly  ungrateful  of  me,  after  all  she  has  done 
for  me." 

"  Granted.  What  else  have  you  wanted  not  to 
do  that  was  amiable,  —  or  a  duty,  since  you  put  it 
so?" 

"  I  do  not  think  I  want  to  go  home,  as  much  as 
I  ought,"  said  Edith,  gravely. 

"  Do  you  not,  and  why  ?  " 

"  I  can  hardly  tell.  I  believe  I  am  a  little  afraid 
of  the  changes  which  I  may  find,  after  so  long  an 
absence." 

"  I  hoped  that  the  feeling  might  have  a  little  to 
do  with  reluctance  to  leave  us,"  said  Philip. 

"  So  it  has,  of  course,  but  that  regret  is  some- 
what compensated  by  the  desire  to  see  my  mother 
and  sister." 


A   CARPET  KNIClir.  367 

"Naturally.  We  have  no  such  compensation. 
Are  you  not  sorry  for  us  7 " 

"  Very,  for  Julia.  1  think  she;  will  miss  me  al- 
most as  much  as  I  shall  miss  her." 

"  And  hmv  about  mo  ?  '' 

"  You  ?  oh,  you  have  your  books  and  your  artis- 
tic employments,  I  suppose,  to  say  nothing  of  the 
all-absorbing  affairs  at  your  office." 

"  They  will  not  fill  all  my  time." 

"  I  thought  they  would,"  said  Edith  demurely ; 
and  it  suddenly  flashed  upon  Philip  that  she  was 
intending'  to  punish  him  for  that  period  of  studied 
neg-lect,  during  which  he  had  been  so  frequently  in 
her  society  without  availing  himself  of  it. 

"  I  suppose  a  woman  never  forgives  a  man  who 
feels  her  influence  for  refusing  to  yield  to  it,"  he 
said  bitterly. 

"  What  do  you  call  refusing  to  yield  to  a  per- 
son's influence  ?  "  asked  Edith  innocently. 

"  Denying  one's  self  the  pleasure  of  talking  to 
her  would  be  one  way,"  he  answered,  smiling. 

"  \\  ell,  I  should  think  his  doing  that  might 
make  her  a  little  skeptical  of  his  deriving  enjoy- 
ment from  her  society." 

"  Do  you  think  it  would  never  occur  to  her  that 
he  derived  greater  enjoyment  than  he  thought  it 
wise  to  indulge  in  ?  " 

"  How  could  it,  if  he  gave  her  no  opportunity  of 
finding  it  out  ?  " 

"  I  think  women  have  a  wonderful  way  of  find- 
ing things  out." 


368  A    CARPET  KNIGHT. 

"  Perhaps  you  give  them  credit  for  too  much 
penetration,"  said  Edith. 

"  Do  you  still  feel  as  if  you  would  like  to  hear 
my  reason  for  asking  you  those  questions  about 
Mr.  Wilmott  ?  "  he  inquired. 

"  I  do  not  know,"  she  answered  shyly. 

"  I  would  tell  you  now,  if  I  could,"  said  Philip  ; 
"  but  the  train  is  ready  and  there  is  no  more  time 
for  talking." 

"  Is  there  not  ?  "  she  asked,  with  a  sudden  up- 
ward glance  of  unmistakable  regret. 

"  I  will  come  to  New  Rochelle  and  tell  you,"  he 
said  gently. 

"  You  promise  ?  " 

"  I  promise." 

And  now  the  moment  was  come  for  parting. 
Edith  was  seated  in  the  train  which  was  to  take 
her  home.  Philip  was  standing  beneath  the  win- 
dow. The  engine  was  about  to  start.  He  took  off 
his  hat  and  raised  his  head  with  the  rare,  sweet 
smile  which  could  so  transform  his  grave  face. 
What  was  it  which  happened  as  their  eyes  met? 
Edith  could  not  tell.  Her  gaze  suddenly  grew 
misty  and  she  withdrew  her  eyes,  with  a  vague  con- 
sciousness that  the  train  which  was  carrying  her 
off  was  tearing  something  which  hurt  more  and 
more  as  the  distance  grew  greater  between  Philip 
and  herself. 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

"  Sweet  is  revenge  — especially  to  women." 

Brow. 

OM.  day  it  occurred  to  Cecil  Wilmott  that  some 
one  had  made  him  a  promise,  and  that  promise  had 
not  been  kept.  He  often  thought  of  the  fair  proin- 
iser,  but  the  promise  had  escaped  his  memory  until 
now.  Immediately  he  began  asking  himself  why 
he  should  not  claim  this  pledge,  and  when  it  is  ex- 
plained that  it  consisted  in  the  simple  consent  of  a 
young  lady  to  make  him  a  silken  purse,  it  will  be 
seen  what  a  fanciful  fellow  he  was,  that  such  a 
trifle  should  appear  to  him  a  matter  of  importance. 

His  interest  in  it  was  undoubtedly  due  to  that 
which  he  still  felt  in  Edith  Arnold,  but  it  certainly 
could  not  be  said  of  him  that  all  this  time  he  was 
utterly  disconsolate,  for  as  the  days  passed  they 
brought  their  balm  to  his  hurt  spirit.  It  was  pleas- 
ant to  feel  himself  able  for  the  first  time  in  his  life 
to  order  a  new  coat  without  a  prick  of  conscience, 
or  to  bring  a  friend  home  unexpectedly  to  dinner 
or  to  take  his  mother  and  Charlotte  to  the  theatre 
without  encountering  that  hesitation  and  doubt  of 
the  prudence  of  the  step,  which  on  former  occa- 
sions had  gone  far  to  interfere  with  its  enjoyment. 

The  month  of   May  found   Charlotte   and  her 

24 


370  A   CARPET  KNIGHT. 

mother  living  at  Heronsford,  while  Cecil  vibrated 
as  he  loved  to  do  between  the  town  and  country. 
He  had  resumed  his  old  habits  of  intimacy  with 
Julia,  and  was  as  much  at  home  in  his  uncle's 
house  as  in  his  own,  but  was  never  to  be  depended 
upon  as  certain  to  be  at  one  place  or  the  other. 

Strange  to  say,  he  had  not  called  upon  Mrs. 
Percy  since  his  return  from  New  York,  although 
he  had  met  her  frequently  in  society.  Perhaps  his 
last  interview  with  the  widow  had  led  him  to  dread 
her  searching  eyes  and  direct  questions.  He  felt 
too  sore  as  yet  to  wish  his  wound  examined,  even 
with  a  view  to  the  cure  which  it  was  just  possible 
that  this  lady  might  have  been  willing  to  under- 
take. 

With  Julia  it  was  different.  He  was  almost 
sure  that  she  had  read  his  secret,  but  she  never 
alluded  by  word  or  look  to  her  knowledge  of  it,  and 
was  only  a  little  more  gentle  and  considerate  in 
her  manner  towards  Cecil  than  she  had  ever  been 
before.  The  country  air  was  agreeing  with  Julia 
wonderfully.  She  was  losing  the  angles  of  her 
outline,  and  was  not  only  regaining  all  that  she  had 
lost  by  her  illness,  but  beginning  to  look  better  and 
stronger  than  for  a  long  while.  A  new,  peaceful 
light  had  come  into  her  face,  —  a  sweetness  and 
contentment  which  made  one  wonder  whither  the 
dark,  defiant  spirit  which  had  once  looked  from  her 
eyes  was  flown. 

Philip,  too,  seemed  happy,  but  restless.  He  was 
never  still.  He  rose  earlier  and  worked  later  than 


A   CARPET  KNIGHT.  371 

ever,  often  not  returning  until  long  after  dark,  on 
soft  spring  evenings  when  every  one  else  was 
enjoying  the  delicious  fragrance  of  the  budding  blos- 
soms, and  .Mrs.  Wilmott  and  Charlotte,  sitting  near 
the  open  windows  of  the  drawing-room,  would  be 
watching  anxiously  for  his  return. 

Julia  was  usually  to  be  found  at  the  piano  at 
such  times,  and  Cecil,  if  present  at  all,  sitting 
dreamily  beside  her,  lost  in  enjoyment  of  the  mu- 
sic. 

It  was  on  a  scene  like  this  that  Charley  Hazzard 
entered  one  evening  in  the  second  week  in  May, 
and  soon  drove  Cecil  from  his  favorite  corner.  He 
had  come,  it  seemed,  to  recall  to  Miss  Prescott  her 
consent  long  since  given  to  go  with  him  on  a  boat- 
ing  excursion.  The  boating  party  was  to  have  been 
given  for  Miss  Arnold,  and  Mr.  Haxzard,  who  was 
much  disappointed  to  hear  that  she  had  gone  home, 
was  anxious  to  know  when  she  would  be  with  them 
again.  Quite  a  lively  discussion  ensued  with  re- 
gard to  Edith's  possible  movements  and  whether 
she  would  get  back  in  time  for  the  proposed  festiv- 
ity, which  resulted  rather  discouragingly,  as  she  was 
not  expected  until  June. 

"  I  will  tell  you  what  it  is,  Charley,"  said  Cecil. 
"  I  am  going  to  be  in  New  York  to-morrow  on  busi- 
ness, and  I  will  run  up  to  New  Rochelle  and  see 
whether  Miss  Arnold  will  not  fix  an  earlier  day." 
So  it  was  arranged.  When  he  set  out  on  his  jour- 
ney to  New  York,  Cecil  was  still  contemplating  the 
idea  of  the  promised  purse.  The  more  he  thought 


372  A    CARPET  KNIGHT. 

of  it  the  more  he  wanted  it,  until,  as  was  usual  with 
him,  the  desire  wrought  the  determination  to  be 
satisfied.  On  reaching  her  house  at  New  Rochelle, 
however,  he  was  told  that  Miss  Arnold  was  not  at 
home.  There  was  nothing  for  it  but  to  leave  a 
card.  He  scribbled  on  it  a  few  hasty  words  em- 
bodying his  request  and  telling  of  Julia's  and  Mr. 
Hazzard's  desire  for  her  return,  and  then  he  turned 
his  steps  homeward  in  a  very  discouraged  frame  of 
mind.  His  "  business  "  in  New  York,  which  was 
not  of  grave  importance,  was  soon  despatched  and 
then  he  took  the  train  for  Philadelphia. 

He  found  his  mother's  empty  house  inexpress- 
ibly dreary.  It  chanced  to  be  an  unusually  warm 
evening,  and  the  air  seemed  close  and  full  of  dust, 
while  a  sense  of  loneliness  pervaded  everywhere. 
All  the  furniture  in  the  drawing-room  was  covered 
with  ghostly  gray  linen,  and  all  the  pictures  and 
chandeliers  mysteriously  enveloped  in  muslin  bags, 
and  the  general  effect  such  as  is  peculiar  to  a  de- 
serted city  house  in  summer  time. 

After  washing  off  the  cinders  accumulated  dur- 
ing his  journey,  he  sauntered  round  to  the  Club, 
where  he  got  rid  of  an  hour  or  so  ;  but  when  din- 
ner was  over,  he  found  himself  much  bored  with 
his  own  society. 

It  happened  that  while  in  this  state  of  dejection 
he  bethought  him  of  Mrs.  Percy.  Was  she  at 
home  ?  He  did  not  know.  He  had  not  kept  him- 
self informed  of  her  movements  for  the  last  six- 
weeks  ;  but  he  began  to  recall  many  soft  May 


A    CARPET  KXKHtr.  373 

evenings  passed  in  her  company,  and  almost  me- 
chanically he  found  his  hat,  and  strayed  dreamily 
out  in  the  direction  of  her  house. 

Mrs.  Percy  was  at  home,  the  servant  said,  but 
she  was  not  in  the  drawing-room  when  Wilmott 
entered,  and  no  lamps  were  lit.  The  windows  of 
this  room,  which  looked  out  back  and  front,  were 
all  open.  A  vase  with  some  lilies  of  the  valley 
stood  on  a  little  table  near  one  of  them,  and  a  bas- 
ket with  some  fresh  cut  roses  on  the  mantel.  They 
were  evidently  from  Mrs.  Percy's  own  bushes  and 
vines,  which  were  blooming  and  climbing  over  the 
fence  of  the  garden  behind  the  house,  and  filling 
the  air  with  their  sweet  odor. 

Cecil  stepped  to  one  of  the  back  windows,  which 
opened  to  the  ground,  and  saw  the  lady  herself, 
half  sitting,  half  lying,  in  a  sea-chair,  which  had 
been  dragged  on  to  the  little  grass  plot  in  the  cen- 
tre of  the  inclosure.  A  small  book  lay  in  her  lap, 
but  it  had  grown  too  dark  to  read,  although  much 
lighter  outside  than  in  the  drawing-room,  where 
all  was  gloom. 

"  Who  is  that  ? "  asked  Mrs.  Percy,  without 
turning  her  head.  She  was  reclining  with  her  face 
upturned,  as  though  contemplating  the  stars.  Cecil 
did  not  answer  for  a  moment.  He  had  a  sudden 
instinct  that  his  voice  would  startle  her. 

Presently  she  turned,  and  lifting  herself  to  a  sit- 
ting posture  peered  at  him  questioningly  through 
the  twilight.  Then  he  stepped  from  the  window, 
where  his  figure  had  been  only  faintly  visible  in 


374  A    CARPET  KNIGHT. 

the  gathering  darkness,  and  came  more  clearly  into 
view. 

"Cecil !  "  she  cried  sharply,  pressing  her  two 
hands  together  with  a  sudden  movement,  and  then 
added,  more  softly,  "  Is  it  you  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Why  did  you  not  answer  me  ?  "  she  asked,  af- 
ter an  instant's  pause,  quite  in  her  usual  tone. 

"  I  was  afraid  of  frightening  you." 

"  How  should  I  have  been  frightened  if  you  had 
answered  ?  I  was  only  startled  a  little  because 
you  did  not." 

"  I  do  not  wonder,"  he  said  carelessly.  "  It  is 
growing  late ;  and  it  seems  a  long  while  since  I 
have  seen  you." 

"  Does  it  —  to  you  ?  " 

"  Of  course  it  does.  I  have  been  meaning  to 
come,  but  a  hundred  things  have  prevented.  I 
hope  you  are  not  angry  with  me." 

"  Angry !  Then  you  flatter  yourself  that  you 
have  been  missed  ?  " 

"  I  suppose  I  do.  May  I  sit  here  ?  "  he  asked, 
seating  himself,  as  he  spoke,  on  a  cushion  beside 
her  chair,  with  his  elbow  on  the  turf. 

"  If  you  are  not  afraid  of  taking  cold." 

"  The  mere  suggestion  of  the  possibility  is  re- 
freshing on  such  a  night  as  this ;  but  you  look 
cool  and  comfortable,"  he  said,  noticing  that  she 
was  clad  in  some  soft  semi-transparent  material, 
through  which  her  neck  and  rounded  arms  were 
faintly  visible. 


A   CARPET  KXKHIT.  375 

"  I  certainly  am,"  sl)->  ansv.vrcd,  lifting  a  feather 
fan  and  waving1  it  gently  to  and  fro  as  she  spo! 

"How  do  you  manage  it?"  he  asked,  lazily 
watching  the  git -am  of  a  diamond  on  her  white 
hand  as  it  passed. 

"  I  dress  thinly,  as  you  see,  and  then  I  never  do 
anything  in  hot  weather.  Now  you,  no  doul>t, 
have  been  roaming  from  one  end  of  creation  to  an- 
other, after  your  usual  restless  fashion." 

"  No,  Lhave  only  been  to  New  York." 

"  And  the  rolling  stone  has  gathered  no  moss. 
I  can  read  that  in  your  face,"  she  said,  turning  her 
own  full  upon  him  as  she  spoke.  "  Are  you  sure 
that  you  went  onhj  to  New  York?  " 

What  wonderful  eyes  she  had!  he  thought.  They 
seemed  to  shine  out  through  the  twilight,  and  to 
shine  into  him,  as  ho  propped  himself  half  reclining 
on  the  grass  beside  her  chair,  in  the  same  way  that 
he  had  felt  as  if  they  did  before,  taking  away  his 
power  of  resistance  to  anything  she  might  demand. 
No  doubt  the  effect  of  old  habit  in  yielding  had 
much  to  do  with  the  fascination  she  exercised. 

"  Exactly  speaking,  I  went  a  little  farther,"  he 
admitted. 

"  Can  I  guess  where  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know." 

"  I  can  gather,  at  any  rate,  that  your  mission 
was  not  altogether  a  success." 

"  AVhy  so  ?  " 

"  Perhaps  you  did  not  get  what  you  went  for." 

"  I  think  I  shaU  get  it." 


376  A    CARPET  KNIGHT. 

"  You  wanted  more  than  you  got." 

"  How  do  you  know  that  ?  " 

"  How,  indeed  ?  We  know  many  things  with- 
out being  able  to  tell  how  we  know  them  ;  but  if  I 
were  mistaken  you  would  tell  me." 

"  I  would  tell  you  nothing  on  that  subject." 

"  Then  I  will  tell  you  where  you  went." 

"  I  do  not  think  you  can." 

"  You  must  think  me  very  stupid.  You  went  to 
New  Eochelle." 

"  Perhaps  I  did." 

"  Ah,  yes,  you  did.  You  went  to  see  Miss  Ar- 
nold, and  now  you  come  to  me." 

"  I  did  not  go  for  what  you  think,"  he  said,  and 
laid  his  cheek  against  the  arm  of  her  chair,  as  he 
looked  up  at  her  tenderly. 

"You  need  not  explain.  I  understand."  She 
turned  away  her  head. 

"  What,  Reta  ?     What  do  you  understand  ?  " 

"  The  situation.     It  is  very  complimentary." 

"I  thought  we  were  done  with  all  this  senti- 
mental nonsense  !  "  he  exclaimed  impatiently.  "  I 
thought  we  were  to  be  friends !  " 

"  I  don't  know  who  is  sentimental,  Mr.  Wilmott," 
she  said  scornfully.  "You  looked  a  little  so  a 
moment  ago,  but  certainly  I  am  not." 

"  You  are  not  very  friendly." 

"  It  takes  two  to  make  a  friendship.  You  have 
come  to  pay  me  the  first  visit  for  nearly  three 
months,  and  seem  quite  disappointed  that  I  have 
not  been  mourning  your  absence.  That  part  of 


i   CARPET  K\/( ;//•/:  377 

your  conduct  hardly  scnns  friendly,  nor  have  I 
ever  gone  so  far  as  to  credit  you  with  much  senti- 
ment.'' 

"  It  is  not  as  if  we  had  not  met  constantly  in 
society,"  said  Cecil.  "  You  could  have  asked  me 
to  come  at  any  moment,  knowing  me  as  you  do,  if 
you  had  any  reason  for  wanting  to  see  me." 

"  It  is,  perhaps,  fortunate  for  me  that  all  of  my 
friends  do  not  wait  to  be  asked.  A  woman  in  my 
position  does  not  care  to  be  a  beggar  for  their 
company.  I  think  I  can  say  without  boasting  that 
most  of  my  visitors  come  because  they  have  reason 
—  or  think  that  they  have  —  to  want  to  see  me." 

"  As  your  *  position '  happens  to  be  that  of  the 
most  popular  woman  in  town,  that  is  quite  possible." 

"  Oh,  wish  me  joy  of  my  popularity !  "  she  ex- 
claimed bitterly.  "  It  is  a  proud  thought  that  I 
am  sought  because  it  is.  fashionable  to  seek  me,  but 
at  least  it  gives  me  the  assurance  that  in  accepting 
a  visit  I  am  not  accepting  a  sacrifice.  Even  yours 
this  evening  does  not  appear  to  me  to  be  dictated 
by  wholly  charitable  motives.  Am  I  right,  or  is  it 
an  act  of  compassion  ?  " 

"  Compassion  ?  Of  course  not.  Compassion  to 
myself,  perhaps." 

"  So  I  supposed." 

"  What  do  you  mean?" 

"I  fancied  that  you  were  a  little  depressed,  a 
little  disheartened,  and  a  little  tired  of  your  own 
company." 

"  I  think  I  am." 


378  A    CARPET  KNIGHT. 

"  Well,  then,  my  friend,  I  advise  you  to  go 
home  and  go  to  bed.  It  is  growing  cooler,  and  I 
think  you  will  sleep.  It  is  certainly  too  cool  for 
me  to  venture  to  remain  in  the  open  air  any  later." 
She  rose  from  her  seat  as  she  spoke,  and  threw  a 
soft  woollen  shawl  about  her  shoulders. 

"  Will  you  send  me  away,  then  ?  " 

"  I  counsel  you  to  go,  in  case  you  came  to  me  for 
advice." 

"  I  hardly  think  that  I  did  do  that." 

"  For  consolation,  then,  perhaps  ?  But  you  see 
I  have  none  to  offer.  I  have  intimated  to  you  that 
I  am  poor  in  some  things,  although  not  a  beggar." 

He  had  picked  up  his  cushion  and  followed  her 
into  the  house.  She  was  groping  along  the  wall 
for  the  bell  handle,  intending  to  ring  for  lights, 
when  his  hand  unexpectedly  met  hers  in  the  dark- 
ness. He  had  been  conscious  of  a  wish  to  stay  her, 
to  hold  her  back  as  it  were,  as  her  intention  grew 
more  plain  of  leaving  him,  but  he  had  not  meant 
to  touch  her  hand,  and  was  startled  at  the  sudden 
fire  which  flashed  through  him  at  the  contact. 

"  Reta !  "  he  exclaimed  softly. 

There  was  no  answer. 

He  felt  again  for  her  hand,  but  it  was  gone.  He 
touched  instead  the  edge  of  the  cold  marble  mantel- 
shelf. Then  he  heard  a  light  laugh,  and  tbe  next 
moment  a  flaming  gas-jet  streamed  up  from  the 
central  chandelier.  She  had  found  a  match  and 
lit  it.  How  he  hated  the  broad,  flaring  light  after 
the  dreamy  dusk  and  darkness ! 


A  CARPI.T  K\n;ur.  379 

"I  wish  you  good  night.  Mr.  Wihnott,"  said 
Mrs.  Percy,  standing  in  the  doorway  on  tin-  other 
side  of  the  room.  "  I  find  that  it  is  nearly  ten 
o'rhtck.  and  I  am  a  little  tired." 

There  was  no  appeal  from  such  a  dismissal.  He 
said  good  night,  and  found  his  hat,  and  was  soon 
on  his  way  home. 

He  whistled  softly  to  himself  as  he  walked  along, 
but  not  for  want  of  thought.  "  What  did  she  mean 
by  turning  me  out?"  he  was  wondering.  "  Was  it 
revenge  ?  What  do  I  mean,  myself?  "  He  stopped 
to  light  a  cigar.  At  the  moment  his  own  situation 
seemed  as  enigmatical  to  him  as  it  would  have 
to  another.  Had  he  not  been  thinking  of  Edith 
Arnold  reproachfully  that  morning?  And  yet  she 
was  in  no  way  responsible  for  the  subtle  emotion 
which  stirred  him  now. 

It  appeared  to  him  that  there  had  been  an  un- 
usual influence  exerted  over  him  by  Mrs.  Percy 
that  evening.  She  had  seemed  different  from  her- 
self, breathing  a  sort  of  suppressed  intensity,  as  if 
inspired  with  some  feeling  to  which  she  was  de- 
termined not  to  yield,  which  lent  her  all  the  more 
power  while  she  held  it  in  check.  Her  very  scorn 
had  attracted  him,  and  she  knew  it.  "  She  always 
had  such  an  extraordinary  faculty  for  understand- 
ing me !  "  he  said  to  himself  impatiently.  "  I  think 
if  I  had  married  it  would  have  been  better  to  keep 
out  of  her  way,  but  as  it  is  it  makes  no  difference." 

Since  it  made  "  no  difference,"  he  did  not  at- 
tempt to  resist  the  impulse  which  prompted  him  to 


380  A    CARPET  KNIGHT. 

revisit  Mrs.  Percy  the  next  evening,  but  when  he 
reached  her  door  he  was  told  that  Mrs.  Percy  was 
"  out  of  town." 

"  When  did  she  go  ?  "  he  asked,  in  astonishment. 

"  She  left  this  morning,  sir,  by  the  twelve  o'clock 
train." 

"And  where  was  she  going?" 

"  I  really  could  n't  tell." 

The  person  who  had  answered  the  bell  was  quite 
unknown  to  him,  evidently  some  one  who  had  come 
to  take  charge  of  the  house  for  the  summer. 

Cecil  turned  away  with  a  keen  sense  of  disap- 
pointment. 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

"  0  suffering,  Bad  humanity !  " 

LONGFEIXOW. 

ABOUT  a  week  later  Philip  had  arranged  his 
affairs  so  that  he  could  "  run  on  to  Boston."  It 
was  thus  that  he  spoke  to  such  persons  as  he  was 
obliged  to  speak  to  at  all  of  his  proposed  absence, 
the  ostensible  cause  of  which  was  the  fulfillment  of 
a  promise  to  make  a  short  visit  to  Lawrence  Carey, 
but  the  real  object  which  he  had  for  going  at  this 
particular  time  was  his  intention  of  stopping  on 
the  way  at  New  Rochelle.  He  stepped  into  his  old 
office  to  give  some  parting  directions  to  Cecil  Wil- 
mott,  and  found  hun  in  the  act  of  opening  a  small 
parcel,  which  had  just  arrived  by  express. 

"  Look  here !  "  exclaimed  Wihnott  triumphantly, 
as  he  drew  forth  a  dainty  little  purse  of  crimson  silk. 
"Did  you  ever  see  anything  so  pretty  as  that?  " 

"Certainly  not,"  answered  Philip  good-humored- 
ly.  "  Where  did  you  get  it,  you  gay  Lothario  ?  " 

"  Oh,  it  was  made  for  me,"  said  Cecil,  who,  to 
do  him  justice,  had  not  the  faintest  intention  of 
disclosing  the  name  of  the  donor,  but  as  he  lifted 
the  little  box  in  which  it  had  been  packed  from  the 
table  a  small  card  slipped  from  between  the  box 
and  the  paper,  unperceived  by  him,  and  fell  to  the 


382  A    CARPET  KNIGHT. 

floor  face  upward.  Philip's  eyes  followed  it  me- 
chanically, and  even  at  a  distance  he  was  startled 
by  a  resemblance  in  the  card  to  one  he  had  seen 
before.  Could  it  be  because  a  certain  name  was 
continually  in  his  thoughts  that  he  fancied  he  saw 
it  now  ?  He  could  not  bear  the  doubt,  and  stoop- 
ing hastily  to  pick  it  up  read  Miss  Edith  Arnold's 
name  quite  unmistakably.  He  laid  the  bit  of  paste- 
board on  the  table  without  a  word.  He  dared  not 
trust  himself  to  speak  for  a  moment,  so  violent  was 
the  rush  of  anger  and  jealousy  and  disappoint- 
ment that  surged  up  in  his  heart. 

Cecil  was  unconsciously  putting  away  his  treas- 
ure. He  had  not  seen  the  card  at  all.  The  look  of 
satisfaction  with  which  he  stowed  the  purse  in  his 
breast-pocket  was  too  much  for  Philip's  self-control. 

"  How  came  Miss  Edith  Arnold  to  make  you  a 
silk  purse  ?  "  he  asked  fiercely. 

Cecil  started  at  the  mention  of  Edith's  name, 
and  gazed  in  surprise  at  Philip's  angry  face. 
"  She  made  it  because  I  asked  her  to,"  he  an- 
swered, with  a  look  of  cool  amazement. 

"  How  did  you  dare  to  take  the  liberty  of  ask- 
ing her  ?  "  growled  Philip. 

"How  did  I  dare?"  repeated  Wilmott,  still 
more  astonished  than  indignant.  "  I  dare  do  most 
things  which  suit  my  fancy." 

"  Then  I  am  to  understand  that  you  are  on  such 
terms  with  this  young  lady,  that  you  have  only  to 
mention  to  her  your  fancies  in  order  to  have  them 
gratified  ?  " 


A   CARPET  KM<:il  1\  383 

"  That  is  not  an  exact  statement  of  facts,"  said 
Cecil,  "  but  then,  I  did  not  make  it." 

"  When  did  you  ask  this  favor?" 

"  A  week  ago." 

"  Did  you  go  to  New  Rotfhelle  ?  " 

"I  did." 

"What  for?" 

"  Come,  Philip,"  said  Cecil,  "  I  think  you  have 
a>k;  d  about  questions  enough." 

Philip  was  silent  for  a  moment,  but  he  was  still 
so  sore  and  bitter  that  he  soon  broke  out  again. 

"  Perhaps  I  had  better  tell  you  at  once,"  he  said, 
"  that  this  is  not  a  subject  of  playful  indifference  to 
me." 

"  By  Jove  !  I  should  think  not,"  returned  Cecil. 
"  I  hope  you  do  not  get  off  jokes  in  this  style." 

Philip  walked  away  to  the  window  and  stood 
looking  out,  with  his  back  to  his  cousin,  for  several 
moments  without  speaking.  There  was  something 
so  eloquently  miserable  in  its  expression  that  Cecil 
began  to  feel  sorry  for  him,  although  far  from  sus- 
pecting the  extent  of  his  unhappiness. 

••  What  is  the  matter,  old  fellow?"  he  asked. 
"  Why  have  you  got  so  worked  up  over  the  idea  of 
Miss  Arnold's  giving  me  a  little  present?  " 

"  Are  you  engaged  to  her  ?  "  asked  Philip,  in  a 
stifled  tone,  from  which  and  from  the  question,  the 
truth  flashed  upon  Cecil.  He  realized  for  the  first 
time  that  Philip  had  been  a  rival,  very  possibly  a 
successful  one,  and  the  idea  did  not  please  him. 

"  What  business  is  it  of  yours  ?  "  he  inquired, 


384  A    CARPET  KNIGHT. 

with  sudden  asperity.  "  Have  you  not  known  that 
we  liked  one  another  for  a  long  time  ?  " 

"  I  have,"  came  from  Philip,  solemnly.  He  took 
his  hat  and  left  the  office  without  another  word. 

Cecil's  feelings,  wheft  alone,  were  not  enviable. 
He  had  said  nothing  which  was  actually  untrue,  as 
he  kept  assuring  himself  ;  and  yet  he  was  quite 
conscious  that  he  had  conveyed  a  false  impression. 
He  had  done  it  in  the  heat  of  anger,  and  his  first 
impulse  was  to  undo  it,  but  when  he  came  to  ask 
himself  how,  he  did  not  see  what  words  he  could 
use.  Those  which  he  had  spoken  related  to  a  well- 
known  fact,  and  could  be  supported  by  abundant 
proof ;  to  attempt  to  explain  them  away  was  to  put 
himself  in  the  wrong,  and  he  soon  began  to  assure 
his  conscience,  after  his  easy-going  fashion,  that 
Philip  would  not  be  such  a  fool  as  to  continue  to 
be  misled,  when  this  unreasonable  fit  of  jealousy 
was  over. 

In  spite  of  the  assurance,  however,  the  inner 
voice  would  not  be  silenced.  Cecil  was  accustomed 
to  taking  things  easily,  but  he  was  not  accustomed 
to  speaking  or  acting  what  was  not  true  ;  and  so 
he  sat  down  before  he  left  the  office  and  wrote  a 
short  note  to  Philip,  which  he  confided  to  the  post- 
man, but  which,  unfortunately,  did  not  reach  his 
cousin  before  he  left  home  the  next  morning. 

Cecil  had  not  been  spending  his  time  satisfacto- 
rily to  himself  for  the  last  twenty-four  hours,  for 
he  had  been  trying  unsuccessfully  to  distract  his 
mind  from  the  thoughts  and  memories  which  had 


A  CARPET  KNIGHT.  385 

been  so  unexpectedly  awakened  by  his  la>t  visit  to 
Mrs.  Percy. 

He  tried  vainly  to  discover  whither  the  pretty 
widow  hud  betaken  herself.  Many  of  her  plans 
for  the  summer  were  well  known  among  her  friends, 
but  which  particular  one  it  had  suited  her  fancy  to 
follow  was  entirely  a  matter  of  speculation.  Usu- 
ally Cecil  had  been  the  trusted  confidant  of  her 
last  whim,  and  as  day  after  day  went  by,  and  he 
could  learn  nothing  of  her  and  her  whereabouts, 
he  begun  to  feel  deserted,  and  to  realize  how  much 
he  had  always  relied  upon  the  certainty  of  her 
friendship. 

He  became  conscious  that  her  half  playful,  half 
affect  ionute  interest  in  his  sayings  and  doings  had 
given  him  a  pleasant  sense  of  security,  and  that  for 
a  man  so  constituted  that  he  must  always  be  a  little 
in  love,  it  was  a  great  boon  to  be  able  to  turn  to 
the  coquettish  tenderness  of  such  a  woman  —  even 
if  she  would  give  him  nothing  more  —  when  he  was 
tired  of  himself,  as  she  had  rightly  guessed  that  he 
had  been  the  last  time  she  saw  him.  Now,  for  the 
first  time,  her  interest  failed  him.  He  had  been 
indefinitely  deprived  of  the  society  of  his  friend 
just  when  he  wanted  it,  and  he  felt  cross. 

"  Who  goes  on  your  boating  party  ?  "  he  asked 
Charley  Hazzard,  in  a  bored  tone,  as  they  walked 
together  towards  Miss  Mortimer's  house,  where  it 
had  been  arranged  that  Mr.  Hazzard's  guests  were 
to  meet,  a  few  days  later,  — for  Miss  Arnold  had 
written  to  decline  the  kind  proposal  of  postponing 

25 


386  A    CARPET  KNIGHT. 

the  boating  party,  in  case  she  could  hasten  her 
return. 

"  Why,  Miss  Prescott  is  to  go,"  said  Charley, 
with  such  a  beaming  countenance  as  proclaimed 
that  in  saying  this  he  was  saying  everything,  "  and 
Miss  Mortimer  and  your  sister.  I  think  those  are 
all  the  young  ladies.  I  asked  Miss  Mildred  Dav- 
ering,  but  she  is  doubtful.  The  men  are  all  mem- 
bers of  the  club  except  Drum  Kettleby.  Only  a 
certain  number  can  go  in  the  boat,  you  know." 

"  Why  in  the  world  did  you  ask  me  ?  " 

"  Because  I  wanted  you,  of  course." 

"  I  hate  boating." 

"  That  is  all  fudge,"  said  Charley  Hazzard. 
"  You  are  out  of  humor.  There  is  no  one  who 
enjoys  that  sort  of  thing  more  than  you  do,  and 
you  pull  a  very  decent  stroke  for  a  fellow  who 
does  n't  practice ;  besides  you  can  talk  and  tell 
stories,  which  is  the  next  best  thing  to  singing." 

"  Are  you  in  earnest  ?  It  is  a  tremendous  com- 
pliment." 

"  Of  course." 

"  And  Mrs.  Davering  is  to  keep  us  all  in  good 
order,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  Oh !  my  mother  is  away,  you  know.  I  have 
asked  Mrs.  Percy  to  do  that." 

"  Mrs.  Percy  !  " 

"  Yes.  Don't  you  think  she  will  make  a  —  a 
suitable  chaperone  ?  "  asked  Charley  in  a  troubled 
tone. 

"  Suitable  ?     Well,  yes,  but  I  thought  she  was 


A   CARPET  KNIGHT.  387 

out  of  town."  Cecil's  expression  was  worth  study- 
ing. 

"  Why,  so  she  is,  but  so  ;m>  the  ladies  at  Herons- 
ford.  I  do  not  think  they  mind  coming  in  for  the 
night  —  do  you  ?  "  • 

"  I  understood  you  to  say  the  other  day  that  you 
did  not  know  where  Mrs.  Percy  was." 

"  Did  I  say  so  ?  Oh  yes,  I  remember,  but  I  met 
her  in  the  street  afterwards  and  asked  her  to  join 
my  party.  Come  to  think  of  it,  I  don't  think  she 
told  me  then  where  she  was  staying.  She  said  she 
was  very  tired  of  people  here,  and  had  run  away  on 
purpose,  without  letting  any  one  know  whither  she 
was  going.  I  had  a  good  deal  of  trouble  to  per- 
suade her  to  come  with  us  to-day,  but  at  last  she 
consented  —  and  here  she  i-." 

They  had  reached  the  house,  and  who  should  ap- 
pear on  the  doorstep  but  Mrs.  Percy  herself,  in  con- 
versation with  Mr.  Drum  Kettleby.  She  bowed 
carelessly  to  Cecil,  shook  hands  with  her  host,  and 
then  they  all  went  in  and  greeted  the  other  ladies, 
whom  they  found  assembled. 

Miss  Mildred  Davering  was  there,  after  all,  look- 
ing as  pretty  as  usual ;  and  then  there  were  Miss 
Mortimer,  and  Charlotte,  and  Julia,  who  was  in  her 
happiest  mood.  She  seemed,  even  to  Cecil,  hand- 
somer than  he  had  ever  thought  her  before.  Her 
cheeks  fairly  glowed  with  color,  and  there  was  a 
wonderful  light  in  the  depths  of  her  dark  eyes. 
Poor  Charley  Hazzard  was  quite  mad  about  her. 
He  could  not  hide  his  desperate  admiration  from 


388  A   CARPET  KNIGHT. 

the  most  indifferent  of  his  guests,  or  keep  away 
from  Julia's  side  for  more  than  a  few  moments  at  a 
time.  He  went  humming  and  blundering  round 
her,  as  one  has  seen  a  great  stupid  humble-bee 
round  a  brilliant  flower.  • 

Cecil  meanwhile  found  his  way  to  Mrs.  Percy's 
side.  His  mental  sky  had  cleared  since  she  had 
come  upon  his  horizon,  and  he  was  inclined  to  take 
a  more  cheerful  view  of  life. 

"  How  abominably  you  treated  me  the  last  time 
I  came  to  see  you  !  "  he  said,  preparing  for  a  com- 
fortable scold. 

"  Did  I  really  succeed  in  doing  that  ? "  she 
asked. 

"  You  might  have  let  me  know  that  you  were 
going  out  of  town,"  said  Cecil. 

"  It  is  possible  that  I  might  if  I  had  happened  to 
know  it  myself." 

"  Then  you  had  not  decided  to  go  before  I  left 
you?" 

"  I  think  not." 

"  And  why  did  you  go  so  suddenly  ?  " 

"  I  hardly  remember ;  I  believe  I  was  bored." 

"  You  are  very  kind  to  say  so." 

"  Would  it  have  been  kind  to  be  bored  while  you 
were  with  me  ?  " 

"  If  you  will  let  me  infer  that  you  were  bored 
because  I  was  gone,  you  are  really  kind." 

"Do  you  think  I  am?"  She  suddenly  raised 
her  eyes  with  a  mocking  smile. 

"  I  am  beginning  to  hope  that  you  do  not  mean 


A    CARPET  KNK.//1.  389 

to  be  unkind,"  he  answered,  noting  as  he  spoke  that 
the  jaunty  little  boating  dress  she  wore,  of  dark 
blue  flannel,  was  an  unusually  becoming  eo>tume. 

••  I  am  afraid  you  are  of  a  little  too  sanguine  a 
temperament.  Mr.  Wilmott.  If  I  had  really  been 
in  despair  at  the  dullness  of  my  own  company, 
after  the  exhilaration  of  yours,  I  fancy  that  wait- 
ing until  the  next  evening  would  have  brought  me 
the  renewed  delight  more  quickly  than  going  out  of 
town." 

"  So  you  heard  of  my  missing  you  the  next 
night?"  he  asked  quickly. 

"  I  hoard  that  some  one  did,  and  I  fancied  that 
it  might  have  been  you." 

"  Then  you  meant  to  treat  me  badly  ? "  asked 
Wilmott,  coloring  with  vexation. 

"  I  believe  I  meant  a  little  more  than  that,"  she 
said  quietly,  and  some  one  else  came  up  to  talk  to 
her  just  then,  so  that  he  had  to  give  up  the  at- 
tempt. 

In  the  horse-car  on  their  way  out  to  the  boat- 
house,  he  talked  to  Julia,  in  desperation. 

"  Do  you  remember  a  warning  which  you  took  it 
into  your  head  to  give  me  about  a  certain  young 
lady,  some  three  or  four  months  ago?"  he  asked, 
in  a  cautiously  moderated  tone.  . 

"  A  warning  ?  "  repeated  Julia,  with  a  puzzled 
expression. 

"  I  think  you  intended  it  for  such.  It  was  after 
that  evening  when  you  came  home  and  found  me 
talking  to  Miss  Arnold  in  the  twilight.  You  seemed 


390  A   CARPET  KNIGHT. 

very  much  afraid"  that  we  might  get  to  liking  one 
another  too  much." 

Julia  looked  at  him  and  smiled.  "  Yes,  I  re- 
member," she  said.  "  Did  it  do  any  good  ?  " 

"  Not  a  particle,  as  far  as  I  was  concerned,  and 
with  the  young  lady  herself  no  warning  was  needed, 
as  must  soon  have  become  evident,  even  to  you." 

"  Even  to  me  ?  Was  I  so  very  obtuse  or  over 
officious  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  think  you  were  either,"  said  Cecil ; 
"  but  things  do  not  always  turn  out  quite  as  one 
would  assume  from  the  premises." 

"  What  made  you  think  of  it  now  ?  "  inquired 
Julia. 

"  I  was  thinking  of  Hazzard,"  replied  Wilmott, 
looking  about  him  as  he  spoke,  to  make  sure  that 
their  host  was  out  of  ear-shot.  "  I  was  wonder- 
ing," he  continued,  "  whether  my  sensibilities  were 
unnecessarily  aroused  on  his  account.  I  confess  I 
cannot  help  feeling  rather  sorry  for  the  poor  devil." 

"Why,  has  he  got  into  some  new  trouble?" 
asked  Julia  anxiously. 

"  I  like  your  innocence,"  said  Cecil  incredulous- 
ly, "  but  does  it  strike  you  as  exactly  fair  to  play 
fast  and  loose  with  a  man's  feelings  as  you  are 
doing  with  his  ?  "  , 

"What  do  you  mean?"  she  exclaimed,  with  a 
look  of  extreme  surprise. 

"  Only  to  point  out  to  you  what  any  one  can  see 
with  half  an  eye,  that  poor  Charley  is  over  head 
and  ears  in  love  with  you.  I  thought  you  must 


A    C AR PET  A A7 ',///.  391 

know  it,  although  it  is  equally  evident  that  you  do 
not  care  a  rap  for  him." 

"  I  do  care  for  him,  Cecil,"  said  Julia  earnestly. 
"I  aui  very  fond  of  Charley  Ilazzard.  1  should 
feel  dreadfully  if  I  thought  that  what  you  say  were 
true." 

"  As  for  its  being  true,"  remarked  Cecil,  "  there 
is  no  more  doubt  of  it  than  that  I  am  sitting  on 
this  seat." 

Here  the  conversation  was  ended  by  the  return 
of  its  subject.  He  would  have  been  much  aston- 
ished to  hear  that  any  one  was  pitying  him. 

Cecil  could  not  find  another  opportunity  of  talk- 
ing to  Mrs.  Percy  all  the  afternoon.  She  was 
seated  at  the  opposite  end  of  the  boat  from  him, 
going  up  the  river,  while  his  neighbor  proved  to 
be  Miss  Mortimer,  conversation  with  whom  was 
never  wildly  exciting,  and  consisted  on  this  occa- 
sion of  small  interjections  from  the  young  lady,  or 
timorous  inquiries  as  to  the  danger  of  accident  or 
the  possibility  of  a  wetting. 

AVilmott  was  inclined  to  curse  his  fate,  but  to 
his  great  joy  Mr.  Hazzard  made  a  complete  change 
of  arrangement  when  they  started  to  row  home, 
lie  asked  Miss  Prescott  to  take  the  seat  at  the 
stern  usually  reserved  for  the  chaperone,  and  l>e- 
hind  which  he  sat  himself  as  steersman,  and  plae.-d 
Mrs.  Percy  beside  Cecil,  who  chanced  to  pull  the 
very  foremost  oar  and  thus  sat  farthest  from  the 
stroke. 

"  At  last !  "  exclaimed  Wihuott,  as  he  pushed 


392  A   CARPET  KNIGHT. 

out  from  shore.  The  moon  was  glorious,  —  not  a 
silver  moon,  but  a  great  amber-colored  one.  Its 
light  made  a  shining  path  along  the  smooth  surface 
of  the  river,  on  which  one  felt  almost  as  if  one 
could  safely  tread,  and  the  shadows  beneath  the 
bushes  on  the  banks  looked  like  black  caverns  into 
which  one  might  descend  forever,  falling  through 
unknown  worlds. 

"  Now  you  will  tell  me  what  you  did  mean  by 
running  away  without  letting  me  know  where  you 
were  going,"  he  said. 

"  Can  you  not  guess  ?  " 

"  I  cannot  imagine." 

"  You  probably  will  in  time,"  said  Mrs.  Percy. 

"  It  suits  you  to  be  enigmatical  to-day." 

"  It  suits  you  to  call  me  so.  What  I  said  this 
afternoon  was  very  plain." 

"  That  you  not  only  intended  to  treat  me  badly, 
but  meant  something  more  ?  " 

"  Exactly." 

"What  was  it,  Reta?" 

"  It  was  simply  to  show  you  that  I  could  live 
without  you." 

"  Strange,"  returned  Cecil,  "  that  you  found  it 
necessary  to  take  so  much  trouble  in  order  to  show 
me  that ! " 

Just  then  there  was  a  call  to  rest  upon  their 
oars.  The  boat  drifted  with  the  current.  Some 
one  sang  a  song.  Then  they  began  to  row  again 
slowly  until  just  as  they  came  beneath  the  shadow 
of  one  of  the  bridges,  where  all  was  dark  as  night, 


A    CARPET  AAV, 7/7  393 

and  looking  out  from  under  which  the  river,  the 
trees,  an  old  forge  on  the  shore  near  by,  and  the 
moonlit  sky,  with  little  sailing  clouds,  formed  a 
charming  picture.  Then-  \vas  another  shout  to 
stop.  Cecil  seized  the  opportunity  to  turn  to  his 
companion.  Chance  had  placed  them  behind  every 
one. 

"  Why  did  you  suppose  that  I  needed  proof  that 
you  could  live  without  me?"  he  asked,  in  a  low 
tone.  "  Had  I  not  had  abundant  proof  of  it  in 
times  past  ?  " 

"  Perhaps,"  said  Mrs.  Percy,  "  but  not  lately.  I 
thought  you  needed  another  lesson." 

"  It  is  not  an  easy  one  for  me  to  learn,  certainly." 

••  Are  you  really  so  conceited,  then?  " 

"•Hardly  as  absurdly  so  as  you  imagine.  I 
should  always  have  supposed  iny  companionship 
quite  a  matter  of  indifference  to  you  if  you  had 
not  suggested  the  doubt,  but  now  I  am  really  such 
a  fool  as  to  feel  like  venturing  everything  I  have 
in  the  world  to  disprove  it." 

"  To  yourself  or  to  me  ?  " 

"  To  you,  I  suppose." 

"  Then  you  yourself  believe  that  I  cannot  ?  " 

"Oh:    How'l  wish  I  did!" 

"Why?" 

"  Because  I  love  you." 

There  was  a  long  pause. 

"  Do  you  know,  Reta,  that  I  am  not  quite  sure 
whether  you  can  live  without  me,  and  so  in  that 
your  proof  has  failed,  but  you  proved  something  to 


394  A    CARPET  KNIGHT. 

me  by  going  away.  You  led  me  to  find  out  that  I 
cannot  live  without  you !  " 

Still  she  did  not  answer.  She  was  leaning  back 
in  the  boat,  letting  one  hand  trail  in  the  water. 
She  did  not  move  or  lift  her  eyes,  and  very  gradu- 
ally Cecil  withdrew  his  left  arm  from  his  oar, 
which  was  resting  idly  in  the  boat,  and  passed  it 
round  his  companion,  unreproved  by  word  or  look. 

"Oh,  Reta,  if  you  can  care  for  me,"  he  whis- 
pered, "  after  all  these  years,  you  will  make  me  the 
happiest  fellow  in  the  world  !  " 

"  How  shall  I  ?  "  she  asked  softly. 

"  By  giving  me  what  I  have  most  coveted." 

"  Most  ?    Are  you  sure  ?  " 

"  I  am  perfectly  sure." 

"  You  will  not  change  your  mind  again  ?  " 

"  I  never  should  have  changed  it  if  I  had  thought 
you  cared  for  me.  Do  you  love  me  ?  " 

"  I  believe  I  do,"  she  said,  lifting  her  eyes  sud- 
denly and  looking  into  his  with  her  bewitching 
smile,  "but  you  must  take  away  your  arm,  dear, 
or  somebody  will  see." 

Cecil  was  too  happy  to  be  disobedient,  so  he  did 
as  he  was  told,  and  this  was  fortunate,  for  just 
afterwards  Mr.  Hazzard  sang  out  to  the  men  to 
"  make  ready,"  and  they  were  soon  pulling  down 
the  stream  in  a  charmed  silence. 

The  charm  was  not  felt  by  all,  for  Julia  had  been 
rendered  quite  unhappy  by  what  Cecil  said  to  her 
of  Charley  Hazzard,  and  when  they  pushed  off 
from  Strawberry  Mansion  on  this  lovely  moonlight 


KM<;iIT.  395 

night,  her  heart  was  very  heavy.  She  noticed, 
with  dismay,  thtit  Charley's  manner  gave  only  too 
much  ground  for  her  newly-awakened  fears,  and 
turning  over  many  doubts  and  troubled  thou. 
concerning  him,  she  began  dimly  to  recall  the 
conversation  which  they  laid  had  so  long  ago  at 
the  Assembly,  and  to  wonder  whether  he  could 
really  have  been  in  earnest  when  she  thought  him 
half  in  fun.  Could  it  be  that  the  poor  fellow  had 
been  payin-  her  serious  attention  all  these  months 
during  which  she  had  treated  him  with  the  freedom 
and  the  indulgence  that  she  might  have  granted  to 
a  favorite  cousin,  whom  she  had  known  from  child- 
hood ?  If  so,  how  could  she  help  him  ?  How  could 
she  right  the  unconscious  wrong  which  she  had 
done  ?  She  felt  ready  for  any  sacrifice,  and  it  oc- 
curred to  her  that  the  hardest  thing  that  she  could 
do  was,  possibly,  the  only  thing  which  would  save 
him. 

Just  then  he  spoke.  "  Do  you  remember  a  talk 
we  had  last  winter,  Julia  ?  I  may  call  you  Julia, 
may  I  not,  because  we  are  such  old  friends  ?  " 

"  You  may,  for  that  reason,"  she  said. 

"  And  the  talk  ?  "  asked  Charley.  "  It  was  at 
the  Assembly.  Have  you  forgotten  what  I  said  to 
you  then  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  remember  exactly  what  you  said,"  she 
replied,  in  the  same  low  tone  in  which  he  had 
spoken. 

"  But  you  remember  what  I  meant,  do  you  not  ? 
and  what  you  answered  ?  " 


396  A   CARPET  KNIGHT. 

"  I  think  I  said  to  you  then  that  I  never  intended 
to  marry,"  answered  Julia  gravely.  * 

"  Yes,  you  did,"  said  Charley,  "  but  I  hoped  you 
might  if  I  always  kept  caring  for  you,  as  I  have 
done,  and  never  bothered  you  with  saying  things. 
Oh,  I  know  what  you  mean  by  that  shake  of  your 
head ;  but  I  am  not  going  to  say  another  word, 
only  to  remind  you  of  your  promise." 

"  My  promise  !  "  gasped  Julia.  "  When  did  I 
make  a  promise  ?  I  do  not  know  what  you  mean." 

"  Do  you  not  remember,"  cried  the  young  fellow, 
"  how  I  asked  you  to  promise  that  if  you  ever 
changed  your  mind  you  would  let  me  know?  Do 
you  not  remember  that  you  did  promise  ?  Oh,  you 
need  not  think  that  I  am  impatient.  I  am  quite 
willing  to  wait,  if  it  should  be  for  years  ;  only  re- 
member that  I  am  the  same  always." 

"  And  so  am  I,"  responded  Julia.  "  What  I 
said  to  you  before  was  half  in  joke,  and  I  had  no 
idea  that  you  were  so  serious  in  taking  my  answer, 
but  it  is  quite  true  that  I  never  intend  to  marry." 

"  I  see,"  he  answered  sadly.  "  You  have  not 
changed,  but  let  me  hope  a  little.  You  may 
change." 

"  No,  never." 

He  uttered  a  sigh  which  was  almost  a  groan. 

"I  will  not  change  with  regard  to  you  either,"  she 
said  gently.  "  You  always  will  be  a  dear  friend, 
so  dear  that  I  am  going  to  tell  you  the  reason  why 
I  shall  not  marry."  Her  voice  shook,  and  she 
paused  for  a  moment  to  gather  strength.  It  was 


A   CARPET  KM',///.  397 

terrible  to  her  to  speak  of  her  inmost  secret  —  that 
which  hud   been  sacred   between   her  and  h.-r  < 
Her    agitation    was    contagious,    and    \\ith    intelli- 
gence sharpened  by  his  love,  he  caught  a  glimmer 
of  her  meaning. 

"Do  not  tell  me  that  you  care  for  some  one 
else  !  "  he  cried,  in  a  tone  of  supplication. 

"  But  it  is  true,"  she  said.  '•  There  is  some  one 
whom  I  have  loved  all  my  life." 

Julia  had  spoken  in  a  very  low  tone.  She  won- 
dered whether  he  had  heard  her,  for  there  was  a 
long  silence.  She  turned  gently  round  to  look  at 
him,  and  his  expression  shocked  her.  Could  this 
be  Charley  Hazzard's  —  this  pale,  indignant  face 
and  stiff,  straight  figure,  which  sat  so  rigidly  upright 
in  the  moonlight,  as  if  carved  out  of  stone?  There 
were  the  signs  of  such  desperate  pain  and  suffering 
that  she  shrank  at  the  sight. 

"  For  God's  sake  don't  look  at  me  !  "  he  said, 
between  his  teeth. 

She  turned  away  her  head,  but  she  could  still 
see  him  in  her  imagination.  "  Will  you  not  be- 
lieve in  my  friendship  ?  "  she  asked  beseechingly. 

"I  will  believe  in  nothing,"  he  said  hoarsely. 
"  In  nothing  ever  again." 

If  the  little  pleasure  boat  had  been  sensible  of 
the  load  it  bore  that  night,  it  surely  must  have 
sunk  ;  but  as  it  was,  it  glided  swiftly  down  the 
moonlit  stream,  and,  not  unlike  the  bark  of  life, 
held  side  by  side  a  strange,  mixed  freight  of  hu- 
man joy  and  sorrow. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

"  I  dare  do  all  that  may  become  a  man  ; 
Who  dares  do  more  is  none." 

SHAKESPEARE. 

A  BACKWAKD  April  shower,  falling  in  May,  had 
become  conscious  of  its  mistake,  and,  as  usually 
happens  with  shy  people,  had  grown  twice  as 
clumsy  and  awkward  in  consequence. 

It  had  spoiled  the  fresh  appearance  of  Edith 
Arnold's  pretty  morning  dress,  and  driven  her  and 
Gertrude  from  the  lawn  tennis  ground,  where  they 
were  engaged  in  a  delightful  game  ;  and  now  as 
Edith  stood  gazing  disconsolately  from  the  upper 
entry  window,  she  saw  it  flooding  the  flower  beds 
all  round  the  piazza  and  filling  the  blossoms  of  the 
trumpet  vine,  which  climbed  over  the  roof,  so  full 
of  water  that  they  all  drooped  their  heads  and 
looked  utterly  forlorn. 

It  chanced  that  the  approach  to  the  house  was 
shielded  from  Edith's  point  of  observation  by  a 
clump  of  tall  young  maples,  and  she  was  therefore 
surprised  at  this  moment  to  hear  a  ring  at  the  bell. 
Morning  callers  were  not  common  in  the  seclusion 
of  New  Rochelle  thus  early  in  the  season,  and 
when  the  housemaid  appeared  to  tell  her  that  there 
was  a  gentleman  in  the  parlor  who  had  asked  for 


A    CARPEi  K. \H,HT.  399 

Miss    Edith   Arnold,  she   was    aware  of   a   slight 
(piiekening  of  her  pulses  and  a  faint  flutt- 
peetation. 

She  slipped  down-stairs  quietly  without  going 
into  the  room  in  which  her  mother  and  (iertrude 
wen-  sitting,  and  paused  a  moment  at  the  door  of 
the  drawing-room,  summoning  all  her  courage  and 
self-possession  to  enable  her  to  offer  a  cordial  and 
uneonseious  greeting  to  the  tall,  broad-shouldered 
young  man  whom  she  beheld  already  in  her  far 
then  she  opened  the  door  and  saw  Philip  Dray- 
ton  standing  before  her  on  the  heart h-nur.  in  front 
of  the  sweet-smelling  boughs  of  blooming  lilacs 
stuck  into  the  empty  fire-place.  She  was,  perhaps, 
more  agitated  than  surprised.  But  why  was  he 
g:r/ing  at  her  with  this  stern,  sorrowful  face? 
What  had  happened,  that  he  should  look  at  her  so 
sadly  ? 

These  thoughts  took  her  by  storm,  and  held  her 
from  speaking  until  Philip  said,  — 

"  I  am  come  because  I  said  I  would  come  to  see 
you.  Do  you  remember  ?  " 

"Yes,"  she  said,  still  more  surpri- 

"Do  you  eare  to  hear  the  explanation  which  I 
said  I  would  give,  or  would  you  rather  not  ?  " 

She  lifted  her  eyes,  which  had  sunk  before  his, 
in  another  attempt  to  fathom  the  cause  of  his 
strange  greeting. 

"  I  eare  to  hear  it  if  you  care  to  give  it,"  she 
replied  gravely  :  '  not  otherwise." 

"  I  should  think  not,"  he  said  bitterly. 


400  A   CARPET  KNIGHT. 

"  Why  do  you  speak  so  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Because  I  am  mad !  "  he  cried  passionately. 
"  Do  not  heed  me.  I  do  not  mean  to  blame  you, 
but  just  now  I  hardly  know  what  I  say !  " 

"  To  blame  me  ?  "  she  repeated.  "  For  what  ? 
What  have  I  done  ?  " 

"  Is  it  possible  that  you  do  not  know  ?  " 

"  Of  course  I  do  not." 

"Not  really?" 

"  Most  truly  no  !     Has  something  happened  ?  " 

"  You  can  think  of  no  reason,  then,  why  I 
should  reproach  you  unless  something  has  hap- 
pened ?  "  said  Philip  slowly.  "  Is  it  a  complete 
surprise  to  you,  Miss  Arnold,  to  be  told  that  I  am 
in  love  with  you?  Have  you  never  dreamed  of 
such  a  thing  as  possible  ?  Has  there  been  no  look 
or  word  of  mine  to  show  you  that  I  was  struggling 
with  a  feeling  to  which  I  knew  that  I  must  not 
yield?" 

She  did  not  answer.  She  had  fallen  to  trembling1 
as  she  stood  facing  him.  Her  eyes  were  sunk  on 
the  ground. 

"  Have  you  never  intended  to  give  me  a  second's 
encouragement  ? "  asked  Philip,  in  the  same  low 
tone.  "  Has  it  been  all  my  own  blind  infatuation 
which  has  led  me  to  hope  against  hope  ?  " 

He  paused  again.  Still  Edith  did  not  speak. 
How  could  she  answer  such  a  declaration  of  love 
as  this  ?  It  was  more  like  an  accusation  of  mur- 
der. 

"  If  you  can  truly  tell  me  that,"  he  resumed 


A   CARPET  KNIGHT.  401 

solemnly,  "  then  it  is  also  true  that  I  have  no  right 
to  find  fault  with  you." 

"  It  is  certainly  true  that  you  have  never  given 
me  any  right  to  suppose  that  — you  —  you  cared  for 
me,"  she  said  at  last.  "  Yet  even  if  I  had  been  so 
vaiu  as  to  fancy  that  you  did,  why  should  I  be  so 
blamed  ?  What  have  I  done  ?  " 

"  What,  indeed  ?  "  he  cried  bitterly.  "  It  is  a 
very  little  thing  to  give  a  man  false  hope,  to  reas- 
sure him  when  he  fears  he  is  falling  into  a  fatal 
error,  to  blind  him  while  you  steel  his  heart  to  the 
real  state  of  yours !  I  know  society  looks  very 
lightly  on  these  things.  Was  it  all  unconscious, 
then,  that  light  in  your  eyes  when  I  parted  from 
you  ?  "  he  asked,  in  a  desperate  tone. 

There  was  an  instant's  pause,  and  then  she  s;ii<l, 
honestly,  — 

"  No.  I  thought  then  —  I  thought  I  knew  — 
that  you  liked  me  very  much." 

"  And  I,  poor  wretch,"  cried  Philip,  "  I  thought 
I  knew  that  you  liked  me  much !  You  see  what  a 
fool  I  have  been  —  and  —  that  I  must  leave  you." 

"  Why  do  you  call  yourself  a  fool  ?  "  asked  Edith 
faintly.  "  Why  must  you  leave  me  ?  " 

"  Because  if  I  stay  I  shall  do  you  a  great  wrong. 
I  ought  not,  as  it  is,  to  have  asked  you  that  ques- 
tion, and  if  I  stayed  I  could  not  help  asking  an- 
other." 

"  I  wish  you  would  ask  it." 

"  Edith !  You  do  not  know  what  you  are  saying ! " 

"  God  help  me !  "  she  cried,  "  I  believe  I  do  not. 


402  A    CARPET  KNIGHT. 

It  is  all  inexplicable  —  what  you  say  and  what  I 
say  —  like  some  dreadful  dream." 

"  As  for  me,"  said  Philip,  "  my  dream  is  over, 
and  this  is  an  awakening,  —  a  very  bitter  one !  " 

He  turned  away  as  though  to  leave  her,  in  his 
auger  and  despair,  and  not  being  able  to  command 
her  voice  to  speak  so  as  to  detain  him,  Edith  took 
a  step  forward  and  laid  her  hand  upon  his  arm. 

"  Philip,"  she  whispered. 

He  turned  back  instantly  and  looked  again  into 
her  face  with  his  stern,  sad  eyes. 

"  I  believe  you  are  sorry  for  me,"  he  said,  "  and 
it  may  well  be  that  I  am  wrong  to  blame  you  for 
the  depth  of  misery  into  which  I  am  sunk.  Give 
me  your  hand,  for  farewell." 

Poor  Edith  could  stand  no  more.  As  he  gave 
her  back  the  one  of  her  hands  which  he  had  taken 
in  his  for  a  moment,  she  covered  her  face  with  both 
of  them  and  burst  into  tears,  the  sight  of  which 
moved  him  deeply. 

"  I  am  a  brute  to  have  spoken  as  I  did ! "  he 
cried.  "  Do  not  be  distressed  at  what  I  said,  I  beg 
of  you.  You  should  not  regard  it  any  more  than 
the  raving  of  a  maniac.  1  told  you  I  was  mad, 
but  I  swear  to  you  that  I  bear  you  no  resentment." 

"  There  is  some  great  misunderstanding,"  she 
said,  withdrawing  her  hands  from  her  face  with  a 
gesture  of  hopeless  mystification. 

"  Oh  no,  there  is  not !  "  said  Philip.     "  That  at 
least  is  past,  and  in  my  sober  moments  I  do  not , 
think  that  the  misunderstanding  was  your  fault,  or 


A  CARPET  KNIGHT.  408 

that  you  were  responsible  for  the  truth's  being 
hidden  from  nie.  We  have  both  been  the  jest  of 
circumstance.  I  should  have  seen  the  folly  of  try- 
ing to  win  you  from  the  first.  God  knows  I  held 
back  long  enough,  and  then  I  was  deceived,  —  not 
by  you,  but  by  chance,  —  into  believing  that  your 
heart  was  free.  I  wish  that  I  might  be  your  friend, 
and  it  is  possible  that  I  may  be  yet  some  day, 
when  this  is  passed.  Good-by  until  then !  " 

He  stooped  and  kissed  her  hand,  and  then  has- 
tened away  before  she  could  speak,  even  if  she  had 
been  inclined  to  do  so,  but  she  was  not.  A  feeling 
of  utter  hopelessness  had  come  upon  her,  from 
which  she  thought  that  nothing  would  ever  rouse 
her  again. 

Her  sister  Gertrude  was  much  distressed  at  her 
altered  looks  for  the  next  day  or  two.  She  told 
her  mother  that  she  thought  a  "change  of  air" 
would  be  good  for  Edith,  and  urged  on  the  prepa- 
rations for  the  visit  to  Heronsford,  in  which  Edith 
herself  did  not  seem  any  longer  to  take  the  slight- 
est interest.  As  it  chanced,  they  neither  of  them 
knew  anything  of  Philip's  visit,  for  he  had  come 
and  gone  without  their  seeing  him,  while  the  fool- 
ish young  person  whose  health  they  were  discussing 
kept  her  own  counsel  and  grew  more  and  more 
unhappy  as  the  days  wore  on. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

"  The  clouds  that  gather  round  the  setting  sun 
Do  take  a  sober  coloring  from  an  eye 
That  hath  kept  watch  on  man's  mortality." 

WORDSWORTH. 
/ 

"Is  anything  the  matter,  old  fellow?"  asked 
Lawrence  Carey,  as  he  and  Philip  sat  at  dinner  on 
the  evening  of  Drayton's  arrival  in  Boston. 

"  Nothing  that  I  know  of.     Why  do  you  ask  ?  " 

"  You  look  as  if  you  were  very  much  cut  up 
about  something." 

"  Do  I  ?  "  replied  Philip  gloomily.  "  I  am  a 
trifle  tired  after  my  journey.  I  shall  be  all  right 
in  the  morning."  But  he  did  not  seem  inclined  to 
retire  early,  and  as  the  evening  wore  on  they  fell 
to  discussing  many  things  in  the  half  personal,  half 
philosophical  spirit,  which  was  their  nearest  ap- 
proach to  confidence. 

"  Then  you  will  not  come  back  with  me  to  Her- 
onsford  ?  "  asked  Philip  at  last. 

"  No,  I  think  not,"  said  Carey.  "  There  is  no 
use  in  it.  It  is  all  very  well  to  talk  about  a  faint 
heart  and  that  sort  of  twaddle,  but  if  a  man  has 
given  a  woman  a  fair  chance  to  find  out  whether 
she  can  like  him,  and  she  does  not  care  for  him, 
there  is  no  sense  in  fighting  against  it." 


A   CARPET  KNIGHT.  405 

"  But,"  said  Philip,  "  how  can  one  be  sure  ? 
Might  it  not  be  possible  for  a  woman  to  think  that 
she  preferred  some  one  else,  and  yet  to  be  mis- 
taken?" 

"  That  is  her  lookout." 

"  One  would  say  so,  if  one  did  not  care." 

"  Oh !  if  one  thought  there  was  any  doubt,  one 
would  ask  the  woman,  of  course.  Sometimes  a 
man  might  have  reason  to  hope  from  her  manner 
of  refusing  him." 

"  How  if  she  had  not  refused  him  and  yet  he 
knew  that  she  would  be  bound  in  honor  to  do  so ; 
would  there  be  any  use  in  his  subjecting  her  to  that 
pain  ?  "  asked  Philip,  with  the  look  of  a  puzzled 
judge  on  his  serious  face. 

Lawrence  Carey  looked  at  him  with  a  half  sur- 
prisrd,  half  amused  expression. 

"  I  can't  tell,  my  dear  fellow,"  he  said  compas- 
sionately. "  It  depends  so  entirely  upon  the  wo- 
man. There  are  some  who  would  misconstrue  your 
delicacy.  Few  people  thank  one  for  trying  to  bear 
tlu-ir  burdens.  In  any  case,  I  think  my  advice 
would  be  to  leave  the  responsibility  where  it  be- 
longed." 

"  You  would  ask  for  her  love,  then,  in  any 
case  ?  " 

"  I  should  do  it  once,"  said  Dr.  Carey,  his  mind 
reverting  to  his  own  affairs ;  "  but  as  to  doing  it 
oftener,  I  am  very  doubtful.  If  a  woman  is  coM. 
she  is  cold." 

"  Do  you  think  that  is  true  where  there  is  no 


406  A    CARPET  KNIGHT. 

other  influence  to  contend  with,  or  only  where  there 
is  some  one  else  whom  she  likes  better  ?  "  asked 
Philip  sadly. 

"  I  really  can't  tell.  It  is  like  speculating 
whether  the  sun  will  shine  on  a  particular  day,  to 
attempt  to  inquire  into  the  complex  causes  of  so 
simple  a  thing  as  personal  attraction,  or  the  absence 
of  it." 

"  Some  men  seem  born  to  attract,"  said  Philip. 
"  Now  there  is  Cecil  Wilmott.  I  remember  we  had 
a  talk  about  him  once  before  ;  I  did  not  think  you 
did  him  justice,  and  he  has  come  out  lately  in  a  way 
to  warrant  my  opinion  rather  than  yours ;  but  he  is 
certainly  a  light  weight  in  proportion  to  the  influ- 
ence he  exerts." 

"  Of  course  he  is,"  said  Dr.  Carey.  "  That  kind 
of  fascination  is  as  accidental  a  gift  as  blue  eyes 
or  black,  but  it  is  less  definable.  The  possession 
of  it  is  apt  to  be  generally  felt,  but  not  generally 
acknowledged.  Half  the  people  who  yield  to  it  do 
so  without  knowing  to  what  they  yield.  I  do  not 
care  a  rap  for  it,  myself,  and  nothing  surprises  me 
so  much  as  the  extent  of  its  power  over  others." 

"  I  believe  the  more  a  person  has  of  it,  the  more 
alive  that  person  is  to  its  influence,"  said  Philip, 
musingly. 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Lawrence  Carey  dryly. 

"  My  dear  fellow,  I  was  not  thinking  of  you  !  " 
protested  Philip,  suddenly  awakening  to  the  unflat- 
tering implication  of  his  words. 

"  Oh,  I  thought  you  were  1 " 


A  CAnrrr  KM aiiT.  407 

"  On  the  contrary,  I  was  thinking  of  a  woman. " 
said  Philip,  reddening  painfully  at  tin-  confusion. 

"That  is  all  right,  old  man,  you  need  not  t«-ll  me 
any  more  about  it.  Sin-  is  not  much  of  a  woman  if 
she  does  not  appreciate  yon." 

"  She  is  a  very  sweet  woman  indeed,"  said  Philip 
staunchly,  and  soon  afterwards  they  parted  for  the 
night. 

The  result  of  this  conversation,  after  it  had  been 
turned  over  in  his  mind  with  the  more  active  events 
of  the  day,  caused  Philip  not  only  to  regret  the  vio- 
lence to  which  his  sudden  jealousy  had  driven  him, 
but  to  wonder  whether  he  had  not  been  foolish  in  fore- 
going an  opportunity  of  ascertaining  the  real  state 
of 'Edith's  affections. 

Lawrence  Carey  thought  that  it  would  have  been 
honorable  to  ask  for  her  love.  Why  need  he  have 
brrn  more  scrupulous  ?  Might  he  not  stop  again 
at  New  Rochelle  on  his  way  back  and  learn  the 
truth  ?  he  asked  himself  as  he  tossed  about  on  his  un- 
easy pillow  that  night ;  but  these  were  not  the  healthy 
thoughts  of  his  waking  moments,  and  with  the  morn- 
ing his  unselfish  nature  reasserted  its  strength. 

He  would  take  the  first  opportunity  of  begging 
Miss  Arnold  to  forgive  him  when  he  could  do  so 
as  a  friend,  but  he  would  not  take  a  mean  advan- 
tage of  another  man,  even  to  gain  what  he  most 
wished  for  in  the  world  ;  and  so,  after  passing  a  day 
or  two  in  Boston  with  his  friend,  he  took  the  night 
train  for  Philadelphia  that  he  might  secure  himself 
against  the  temptation  of  lingering  on  the  way. 


408  A    CARPET  KNIGHT. 

He  had  ordered  his  horse  sent  to  meet  him,  but 
stayed  in  town  all  day  and  rode  out  that  evening 
much  later  than  usual,  to  find  Mrs.  Wilmott,  Char- 
lotte, and  Julia  assembled  in  the  drawing-room. 

"  Why,  Philip  !  We  had  given  you  up !  "  ex- 
claimed Mrs.  Wilmott,  as  he  burst  in  upon  them 
in  his  muddy  boots. 

"  Have  you  seen  anything  of  Cecil  ? "  asked 
Charlotte.  "  We  expected  him,  too,  this  evening." 

"  Yes,  I  have  seen  Cecil,"  answered  Philip  grave- 
ly. "  He  came  to  tell  me  some  bad  news." 

"  Some  bad  news  ?  What  was  it  ?  "  asked  Mrs. 
Wilmott. 

"  It  was  of  a  friend  of  all  of  us,"  answered 
Philip,  looking  meaningly  at  Julia. 

"  Not  of  Mr.  Hazzard  ?  "  she  cried,  starting  from 
her  seat  with  a  sudden  premonition. 

"  It  was.      What  made  you  think  of  him  ?  " 

"  I  hardly  know,"  she  said  hurriedly.  "  What 
is  it?  What  has  happened  ?  " 

"  We  are  not  sure  that  anything  has,"  he  an- 
swered ;  "  only  we  do  not  know  where  he  is." 

"  Tell  us  just  what  you  have  heard." 

"  Why,  Cecil  came  to  tell  me  that  Hazzard  has 
not  been  seen  or  heard  of  since  that  boating  party 
which  he  gave  for  you." 

"  How  did  Cecil  hear  about  it  ?  "  asked  Charlotte. 
^  "  Mrs.  Davering  telegraphed  to  him  to  know 
where  Charley  was.  She  and  her  husband  are  at 
Saratoga,  where  she  expected  her  son  to  join  her ; 
and  not  hearing  anything  from  him  for  more  than 


A    CARPET  K.\! <;///.  409 

a  week,  she  had  already  written  a  letter,  which  came 
just  after  the  message,  asking  Cecil  to  look  him  up 
and  let  her  know  if  anything  was  the  matter.  This 
Cecil  tried  to  do.  1  lr  went  first  to  the  house  in 
town,  and  learned  that  he  had  not  been  there  since 
tin'  afternoon  before  the  boating  party.  They  sup- 
posed him  in  the  country.  Cecil  then  took  the  train 
for  Wy mbleton,  not  doubting  that  he  should  find  him, 
but  learned  to  his  discomfort  that  he  had  not  been 
seen  there,  either,  for  ten  days.  Still  hoping  that 
Charley  might  have  gone  unexpectedly  to  pay  a 
visit  to  some  friend,  Cecil  returned  to  town  at 
three  o'clock  and  came  at  once  to  me  ;  but  we  have 
both  spent  the  whole  afternoon  in  making  inquiries 
among  all  the  men  he  knew  well,  and  especially 
those  who  went  on  the  excursion  up  the  river,  with- 
out being  able  to  find  any  clew  to  his  strange  dis- 
appearance." 

"  Why,  what  nonsense  !  "  cried  Charlotte  "\Vil- 
mott.  "  A  grown  man  like  Mr.  Hazzard  could  not 
be  stolen  like  a  child.  How  could  he  disappear  ?  " 

Julia  was  pale  as  death,  but  said  nothing. 

"  It  only  shows  the  danger  of  a  young  man's 
leading  that  sort  of  irresponsible  life  —  one  foot  in 
one  place  and  one  in  another,"  said  Mrs.  Wilmott, 
with  a  shake  of  her  head.  "  There  is  Cecil  himself, 
who  is  only  too  fond  of  it.  Of  course,  if  no  one 
knows  where  he  is,  he  might  be  anywhere,  as  I 
have  often  told  him  ;  but  I  never  thought  of  his 
being  spirited  away." 

"  I  remember  being  quite   surprised   that   Mr. 


410  A    CARPET  KNIGHT. 

Hazzard  did  not  walk  home  with  you  that  night, 
Julia,"  said  Charlotte.  "  I  thought  it  odd  when 
he  asked  Cecil  to  come  with  us,  especially  as  the 
party  was  given  for  you." 

"  When  was  Mr.  Hazzard  last  seen,  Philip  ?  " 
asked  Julia,  almost  sternly. 

"  As  far  as  we  can  learn,  Freeman  was  the  last 
of  his  friends  who  saw  him.  He  says  that  Charley, 
after  arranging  with  each  one  of  the  men  who  he 
should  take  home,  to  be  sure  that  all  the  ladies 
were  safely  cared  for,  accompanied  the  rest  in  the 
horse-car  as  far  as  Mrs.  Percy's  door,  when  he  and 
Freeman  got  out  together.  Mrs.  Percy,  who  was 
full  of  gayety,  said  a  hundred  pleasant  things  to 
Hazzard  about  the  success  of  his  party,  the  beauty 
of  the  night,  etc.,  to  which  Freeman  noticed  that 
he  barely  replied,  but  saying  good-night  to  both 
of  them  rather  abruptly,  turned  and  walked  off  in 
the  same  direction  in  which  they  had  come.  He 
remembers  thinking  this  strange  at  the  time,  as  it 
was  the  opposite  way  from  the  Daverings'  house, 
but  thought  no  more  about  it  beyond  the  moment." 

"  Is  this  the  last  that  is  known  of  him,  then  ?  " 
asked  Julia. 

"  It  is  the  last  that  is  known  with  any  certainty  ; 
but  there  are  all  sorts  of  reports  about  already,  since 
it  has  been  known  that  he  is  missed.  It  is  said  that 
one  of  the  night  watchmen  on  the  railroad  bridge 
across  the  Schuylkill  saw  a  man  put  out  into  the 
river  in  a  wherry,  from  one  of  the  boat-houses,  be- 
tween twelve  and  one  o'clock  that  night,  and  that 


A    CARPET  KNIGHT.  411 

when  he  got  into  the  middle  of  the  stream,  the  man 
suddenly  disappeared.  From  where  the  watrlmian 
was  posted  he  could  not  tell  whether  he  lost  his 
balance,  or  the  boat  upset,  or  whether  the  man 
threw  himself  intentionally  into  the  water.  He 
made  his  way  down  to  the  shore,  and  after  some 
trouble,  succeeded  in  finding  another  boat  and 
rowing  out  to  the  place  ;  but  when  he  got  there  the 
wherry  was  floating  bottom  upwards,  and  there  was 
no  sign  of  the  man  anywhere." 

"  Of  course  there  always  would  be  reports  of  this 
kind,"  said  Mrs.  Wilmott  hurriedly.  "  It  is  not 
worth  while  to  dwell  upon  any  of  them  when,  after 
all,  our  young  friend  may  be  amusing  himself 
somewhere,  and  entirely  unconscious  of  the  anxiety 
which  he  is  causing." 

"  It  is  bad  about  Mrs.  Davering,"  said  Philip. 
"  Cecil  had  to  telegraph  to  her  to  come  home  ;  for 
if  he  is  not  found  in  another  twenty-four  hours,  the 
whole  thing  will  be  in  the  papers,  although  we  have 
tried  to  keep  it  as  quiet  as  possible." 

Nothing  more  was  said  that  evening.  Even  the 
more  cheerful  aspects  of  the  subject  were  not  fur- 
ther discussed,  for  its  gloomier  ones  were  upper- 
most  in  the  minds  of  all.  Julia  learned  from 
Philip,  after  the  others  had  gone  to  bed,  that  the 
river  was  being  dragged,  and  that  he  expected  to 
hear  the  result  from  Cecil  in  the  morning. 

Julia  and  Charlotte  were  sitting  on  a  covered 
veranda  which  opened  from  Mrs.  Wilmott's  bed- 
chamber, the  next  morning,  when  the  postman 


412  A    CARPET  KNIGHT. 

came.  Julia,  who  was  the  first  to  see  him,  sprang 
up  and  ran  down  to  the  front  entry,  where  she  met 
Philip  with  an  open  letter  in  his  hand. 

"  What  is  it  ? "  she  asked.  "  Has  he  been 
found?"  » 

Philip  looked  at  her  pityingly.  "  No,  dear  Ju- 
lia," he  said,  "  he  is  not  found  for  us.  He  never 
will  be  in  this  world." 

"  Then  he  is  dead  ?  " 

"  His  body  has  been  found.  It  is  even  as  you 
feared." 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

"  Love  took  up  the  harp  of  Life,  and  smote  on  all  the  chorda  with  might ; 
Smote  the  chord  of  Self,  that,  trembling,  passed  in  muxic  out  of  right." 

TKXNYSOH. 

"  O  PHILIP  ! "  cried  Charlotte,  intercepting  him 
on  his  way  to  his  room,  the  evening  after  the  sad 
news  of  Charley  Hazzard's  death  had  been  con- 
firmed ;  "  here  is  a  note  which  came  for  you  the  day 
you  went  to  Boston.  I  put  it  into  my  work-basket 
intending  to  give  it  to  you  when  you  came  home,  but 
this  terrible  catastrophe  of  poor  Mr.  Ilazzard's  quite 
drove  it  from  my  mind.  I  think  it  is  from  Cecil." 

"  All  right,  Charlotte.  You  need  not  be  troubled 
about  it.  I  have  seen  Cecil  three  or  four  times  a 
day  since,  so  that  if  the  contents  were  of  any  conse- 
quence, I  should  have  been  likely  to  hear." 

"  I  thought  the  note  might  have  been  to  tell  you 
some  news,"  said  Charlotte  meaningly. 

"  Some  news  ?  "  repeated  Philip,  with  a  sudden 
frown.  "  What  news  ?  " 

"  Have  you  heard  of  the  engagement  ? "  asked 
Charlotte,  beaming  all  over  with  an  air  of  mystery. 

"No,"  said  Philip  savagely.  "I  do  not  want 
to  hear  of  it." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  I  am  sure,"  returned  Char- 
lotte, with  offended  dignity.  "  It  seemed  like  the 


414  A   CARPET  KNIGHT. 

most  important  thing  that  had  happened  since  you 
went  away." 

"  It  is  important  to  you,  no  doubt." 

"  I  fancied  that  you  might  take  sonie  slight  in- 
terest in  it  on  Cecil's  account,"  said  Charlotte 
loftily. 

"  Possibly  I  should,"  returned  Philip,  with  a 
bitter  smile,  "  but  the  truth  is  that  I  would  a  little 
rather  the  subject  were  not  mentioned  to  me." 

"  You  do  not  know  how  cross  he  was ! "  grumbled 
Charlotte,  as  she  described  the  interview  to  Mrs. 
Wilmott  a  few  moments  later. 

"  Ah,  well,  my  dear,  I  have  no  doubt  that  he 
has  the  same  feeling  that  I  have  about  Mrs.  Percy. 
He  probably  dreads  receiving  her  into  the  family. 
But  although  I  never  fancied  her  before,  I  shall 
try  to  like  her  now,  and  we  must  make  the  best  of 
things  for  Cecil's  sake." 

"  Oh,  as  for  that,"  said  Charlotte,  "  you  always 
make  the  best  of  things.  But  I  had  no  idea  that 
she  cared  for  Cecil." 

Meanwhile  Philip,  who  was  very  far  from  imag- 
ining this  interpretation  of  his  ill-humor,  was  still 
smarting  under  the  belief  that  Charlotte  had  in- 
tended to  announce  Cecil's  engagement  to  Edith 
Arnold.  His  hand  tightened  convulsively  on  the 
note  which  he  supposed  to  contain  the  unwelcome 
tidings,  and  he  thrust  it  unopened  into  his  pocket. 

When  Edith  received  her  next  letter  from  Julia 
she  happened  to  be  sitting  listlessly  in  Gertrude's 
studio,  watching  the  artist  put  some  finishing 


A   CARPET  KNIUIIT.  415 

touches  to  the  portrait  of  a  country  peddler,  whom 
she  had  beguiled  into  sitting  for  her.  Edith  was 
not  thinking  of  the  dirty  old  man,  with  his  cunning, 
careworn  face  and  short  cuddy  pipe.  Her  thoughts 
were,  indeed,  far  otherwise  engaged,  and  she  sud- 
denly aroused  herself  from  her  sad  abstraction  to 
perceive  that  the  model  had  fallen  asleep. 

"  Wake  him  up !  "  she  said  indignantly.  "  He 
will  spoil  the  picture." 

'•  Oh,  it  is  a  great  pity  to  spoil  his  nap,"  replied 
the  placid  Gertrude.  "  I  can  work  on  the  back- 
ground for  a  while.  You  see  the  figure  is  almost 
done.  He  only  wants  another  wash  over  his  face." 

"  I  should  think  he  did !  "  said  Edith. 

At  that  moment  the  postman  arrived  with  Julia's 
letter,  and  all  the  current  of  her  thoughts  was 
changed.  She  slipped  away  with  it  still  unopened 
to  a  shaded  seat  in  an  arbor,  at  the  bottom  of  the 
garden,  and  here  she  broke  the  seal.  The  letter 
contained  a  long  account  of  the  heart-rending  u  ac- 
cident "  which  filled  Julia's  thoughts  just  then  to 
the  exclusion  of  every  other  subject. 

Mrs.  Wilmott  had  received  an  urgent  message 
from  Mr.  Davering  entreating  her  to  come  to  his 
wife.  The  poor  lady  had  returned  to  her  house  in 
the  country  just  in  time  to  hear  the  certain  news 
of  her  son's  death,  and  was  in  a  state  of  the  most 
terrible  excitement,  walking  her  room  day  and 
night  with  sobs  and  lamentation,  refusing  to  see 
any  one  or  to  receive  any  consolation,  of  which, 
indeed,  no  one  felt  that  there  was  much  to  offer. 


416  A    CARPET  KNIGHT. 

Mr.  Davering  was  quite  worn  out  with  his  efforts 
to  comfort  her,  and  had  at  last  brought  her  to  say 
that  she  would  be  willing  to  see  Mrs.  Wilmott, 
who  went  to  her  at  once. 

"  I  wanted  to  go,  too,"  wrote  Julia,  "  I  feel  so 
deeply  for  her,  but  Mrs.  Wilmott  begged  me  not 
to  think  of  it.  She  said  that  seeing  me  would  be 
sure  to  awaken  painful  associations.  Poor  Mrs. 
Davering !  So  here  I  am  with  Charlotte  and  the 
prospect  of  a  visit  from  Miss  Ruthven,  who  has 
been  urged  by  Philip  to  come  and  look  after  us  in 
our  unprotected  maidenhood.  Will  you  not  come 
soon,  dear,  and  cheer  us  up  a  little  ?  We  are  all 
very  sad,  but  Philip  is  as  gloomy  as  a  nightmare. 
I  sometimes  wonder  whether  his  extreme  depres- 
sion can  be  entirely  due  to  the  shock  of  our 
friend's  loss,  or  whether  he  can  have  any  personal 
cause  of  unhappiness  which  has  made  him  so  dif- 
ferent from  himself  ever  since  his  return  from 
Boston.  Perhaps  he  is  only  very  tired.  He  has 
certainly  had  a  great  deal  of  care  and  anxiety 
since  his  father  went  away,  and  when  I  spoke  of 
your  promised  visit  the  other  day,  hoping  it  would 
give  him  something  bright  to  think  of,  he  said  that 
he  thought  he  would  leave  home  before  then,  as 
he  fancied  that  he  needed  change  of  air." 

At  this  point  the  letter,  which  had  been  trem- 
bling in  Edith's  hold,  dropped  upon  her  lap,  and 
she  covered  her  face  with  her  two  hands  while 
tears  trickled  silently  between  her  fingers. 

Her  private  desk  contained  at  that  moment  a 


A   CARPET  KN1C11T.  417 

letter  partly  written  to  Julia,  in  which  she  stated, 
with  many  expressions  of  regret,  that  she  found 
herself  obliged  to  give  up  her  visit  to  Heronsfonl, 
the  day  fixed  for  which  was  fast  approaching. 
After  their  last  interview  her  self-respect  would 
not  allow  her  to  take  a  step  which  might  throw  her 
in  Philip's  society,  but  now  it  seemed  that  she 
could  accept  Julia's  invitation  quite  freely,  for 
Philip  himself  intended  to  secure  her  against  the 
possibility  of  a  meeting.  He  was  determined  to 
avoid  her,  whatever  the  mysterious  cause  of  his 
displeasure  might  be.  The  thought  was  infinitely 
bitter. 

At  last  she  dried  her  tears  and  rose  sadly  from 
her  seat  to  return  to  the  house.  She  fancied  as 
she  did  so  that  she  heard  the  clicking  of  the  front 
gate,  announcing  the  possible  arrival  of  a  visitor, 
and  quickened  her  pace  in  order  to  get  to  her  room 
without  molestation  ;  but  as  she  turned  the  corner 
of  the  house  in  hot  haste,  with  her  straw  hat  hang- 
ing by  its  strings  behind  her,  and  several  tresses  of 
her  fair  hair  flying  loosely  in  the  wind,  she  almost 
ran  into  some  one  who  was  advancing  by  a  con- 
verging path. 

The  broad  approach  was  shielded  at  this  point 
by  the  clump  of  maples  which  has  been  mentioned 
already,  and  Edith,  stepping  aside  beneath  one  of 
the  trees  with  a  startled  movement,  raised  her 
eyes  and  met  those  of  Philip  Drayton. 

He  came  forward  eagerly,  with  an  anxious  look 
in  his  face. 


418  A   CARPET  KNIGHT. 

"Have  you  forgiven  me  for  my  rudeness  the 
other  day?  "  he  asked.  "  I  do  assure  you  that  I  am 
utterly  ashamed  of  my  want  of  self-control.  Will 
.you  let  bygones  be  bygones  ?  " 

She  did  not  answer  for  a  moment.  She  was  evi- 
dently very  much  startled,  and,  looking  gravely  at 
his  outstretched  hand,  just  touched  it  with  her 
finger-tips,  which  felt  as  cold  as  ice. 

"  I  do  not  wonder  that  you  find  it  hard  to  un- 
derstand me,"  he  said  sadly.  "  I  did  not  expect, 
of  course,  to  meet  you  in  this  way." 

"  Nor  I  that  you  were  coming  here,"  said  Edith, 
in  a  tone  which  seemed  to  have  changed,  since  he  last 
heard  it.  It  was  quieter  than  before,  and  colder. 
There  was  no  response  in  her  manner  to  his. 

"  I  thought  I  owed  it  to  myself  and  you  to  ask 
your  pardon,"  he  said  humbly  ;  "  and  then  I  was 
afraid  that  the  idea  of  nleeting  me  might  possibly 
prevent  you  from  visiting  Heronsford,  so  I  decided 
to  come  and  tell  you  that  I  was  going  away." 

"  You  were  very  kind." 

"  I  meant  to  be,  for  I  fancied  you  would  like  bet- 
ter to  hear  from  myself  why  I  had  gone.  I  wanted 
you  to  know  that  it  was  chiefly  for  your  sake." 

"  Then  may  I  ask  why  ?  "  She  turned,  as  she 
spoke,  and  walked  slowly  along  the  garden  path, 
and  Philip  walked  beside  her  for  some  time  in  si- 
lence. 

"  It  is  very  simple,"  he  said,  at  last,  in  a  deep 
voice  in  which  there  was  a  strong  vibration.  "  I 
not  only  imagine  that  you  would  probably  prefer  to 


A   CARPET  K.\ /(.///'.  n i » 

have  me  absent,  but  it  would  lie  difficult  for  me  to 
so  far  master  myself  as  to  be  able  to  meet  you 
every  day  as  you  would  wish." 

"  Indeed  ?  " 

"  Why  do  you  say  that  ?  You  seem  as  much 
surprised  as  Julia  did.  when  I  told  her  that  I  should 
not  be  at  Heronsford  during  your  visit." 

"  You  think  then  that  it  ought  not  to  be  a  mat- 
ter of  surprise  to  me  '/  " 

"  Julia's  surprise  was  based  on  the  fact  that  she 
said  she  thought  we  had  always  been  good  friends," 
replied  Philip  gravely. 

"  I  think  I  have  been  laboring  under  the  same 
impression,"  said  Edith  dryly. 

"lean  hardly  understand  that,"  he  answered; 
"  for  I  have  not  been  a  very  good  friend,  as  I  told 
Julia," 

"  Did  you  give  her  the  impression  that  we  had 
quarreled  ?  "  asked  Edith.  "I  should  like  to  know 
my  cue." 

"  It  seems  that  if  it  be  to  quarrel,  you  will  take 
it  easily,"  said  Philip,  with  some  bitterness. 

"  I  think  you  can  hardly  accuse  me  of  having 
been  inclined  to  do  so,  although  I  may  have  seemed 
stupid,  finding  myself  unable  to  guess  why  you  were 
angry  with  me." 

"  When,  for  instance  ?  " 

"  You  did  not  seem  very  well  pleased  the  last 
time  I  saw  you." 

Philip's  face  darkened.  "  Do  you  not  know 
why  ?  "  he  asked.  "  I  told  you  at  the  time.  Do 
you  want  me  to  tell  you  over  again  ?  " 


420  A   CARPET  KNICHT. 

"  I  hardly  know,"  she  said,  with  a  slight  tremor 
in  her  voice.  "  I  should  like  to  understand  it  if  I 
could,  but  I  would  rather  that  you  were  not  angry 
with  me  again.  I  would  rather  we  were  friends." 

"  Angry !  angry !  "  he  repeated,  desperately. 
"  Do  you  call  it  being  angry  when  a  man  tells  you 
that  he  loves  you,  and  shows  you  his  grief  that  an- 
other man  has  been  preferred  to. him  ?  " 

"  Why  do  you  suppose  that  I  prefer  another 
man  ?  "  she  asked  quietly. 

"  I  believe  that  you  do  not  mean  to  be  cruel," 
said  Dray  ton  slowly,  "  and  I  will  try  to  think  that 
you  are  sincere  in  wishing  to  retain  my  friendship. 
You  have  a  perfect  right  to  the  reserve  which  you 
choose  to  maintain,  with  regard  to  your  own  feel- 
ings, from  your  own  point  of  view,  but  from  mine 
it  is  intolerable." 

"  And  from  mine,"  said  Edith,  "  all  you  say  is 
enigmatical.  Whom  do  you  think  I  care  for  ?  " 

"  Cecil  Wilmott  has  told  me,  Edith." 

"  What  did  he  tell  you  ?  "  she  asked,  proudly. 

"  I  know  now  that  you  are  engaged  to  him." 

"  Did  Mr.  Wilmott  tell  you  that  ?  " 

"  He  did  not  say  it,  but  he  implied  it.  He  would 
not  say  that  it  was  untrue." 

"  Then  I  will  say  so." 

"  Take  care.  He  has  written  to  me  since.  I 
have  the  note  in  my  pocket  at  this  moment." 

"  What  can  you  mean  ?  " 

"  That  it  matters  little  whether  you  call  it  an  en- 
gagement, if  there  is,  as  he  led  me  to  believe,  an 


A    CAIWKT  KMtillT. 

understanding  between  you.  Did  you  not  make 
him  a  purse  and  send  it  to  him  ?  " 

"  I  certainly  did.  Does  tliat  constitute  an  en- 
gagement ?  " 

"  You  are  treading  on  dangerous  ground,"  said 
Philip.  "Will  you  say  in  so  many  words  that 
Cecil  told  me  what  was  false  ?  " 

"  How  can  I,  without  knowing  what  he  said  ? 
I  do  not  believe  that  Mr.  NYilmott  would  say  what 
was  not  true,"  said  Edith  gravely,  "  any  more  than 
that  he  said  he  was  engaged  to  me/' 

Philip  misunderstood  her  caution.  He  thought 
it  the  deliberate  evasion  of  an  acknowledgment 
which  she  did  not  wish  to  make.  An  expression  of 
pain  and  regret  passed  over  his  face.  He  drew  a 
crumpled  envelope  from  his  pocket,  and  handed  it 
to  her  without  a  word. 

Edith  looked  at  it  with  amazement.  "  This  note 
is  directed  to  you,"  she  said,  "and  it  has  never 
been  opened.  What  am  I  to  do  with  it  ?  " 

"  Read  it,"  said  Philip  imperatively. 

She  quietly  broke  the  seal,  and  read  the  follow- 
ing, in  Cecil's  handwriting  :  — 

MY  DEAR  PHILIP,  —  I  have  been  troubled  since 
you  left  the  office  lest  you  may  have  misinter- 
preted what  I  said  this  morning.  I  beg,  therefore, 
to  state  explicitly,  in  answer  to  the  question  which 
you  asked  to-day,  that  I  am  not  engaged  to  Miss 
Edith  Arnold,  who  has,  as  I  believe,  never  enter- 
tained towards  me  any  feelings  but  those  of  a 


422  A   CARPET  KNIGHT. 

friend.  My  own  to  her  were  once  of  a  warmer  na- 
ture, but  met  with  the  most  distinct  proof  that  they 
were  unreturned. 

Faithfully  yours,         CECIL  WILMOTT. 

As  she  read  the  note,  a  sudden  light  broke  upon 
Edith,  who  perceived  that  it  was  dated  some  weeks 
back.  In  fact  she  noted  that  it  bore  the  date  of 
the  very  clay  when  she  had  last  seen  Philip,  on  his 
way  to  Boston.  She  raised  her  eyes  from  its  peru- 
sal to  the  troubled  countenance  of  the  young  man 
before  her,  with  a  glance  almost  of  compassion. 

"  I  was  sure  there  was  a  misunderstanding,"  she 
said,  with  a  sweet,  confident  smile. 

Philip  did  not  know  what  to  make  of  the  smile. 
He  took  back  the  note  from  her  outstretched  hand, 
and  read  it  as  in  a  dream,  and  his  whole  being 
seemed  transfigured. 

"Dear  Edith,  is  this  true  ?  "  he  cried. 

"  You  should  ask  Mr.  Wilmott.  Did  you  be- 
lieve me  when  I  told  you  that  I  was  not  bound  to 
him  in  any  way  ?  "  she  said  reproachfully. 

"  I  did  in  part.  I  believed  the  letter  of  your 
words." 

"  You  were  kind." 

"  The  truth  is,"  said  Philip,  "  that  I  was  afraid 
to  believe.  Will  you  not  forgive  me  now  ?  "Will 
you  not  give  me  your  hand  ?  " 

"  As  a  sign  that  we  are  friends  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Philip.    "  I  do  not  ask  it  as  a  friend." 

She  turned  a  little  from  him  towards  the  side  of 


A    C  Alii -I  T  KM  i  HIT.  423 

the  summer  house,  into  which  they  had  wandered 
as  they  talked. 

"  Edith,"  he  said,  "  I  think  you  love  me." 

Still  she  said  nothing. 

"  Edith!  Edith!  ''  he  cried  passionately,  "if  you 
do  care  for  me  the  least  little  bit,  for  God's  sake 
tell  nit-  M  !  " 

The  terrible  earnestness  of  his  tone  seemed  to 
move  her  with  a  force  outside  her  own  volition. 
She  raised  her  head  and  held  out  her  two  hands  to 
meet  his  with  a  svidden  impulse,  and  then  as  quickly 
dropped  them  :  but  he  caught  them  us  they  fell. 

"You  do  care  a  little,  do  you  not?"  he  asked 
impetuously. 

"  Yes." 

"  Only  a  little  ?  " 

She  did  not  answer,  so  Philip  began  to  protest. 

"I  love  yon  more  and  more  every  time  I  see 
you.  Why  did  you  make  me  believe  that  you 
eared  for  some  one  else?" 

"  I  did  not  make  you  believe  it,"  she  said 
proudly.  "It  was  you  who  would  believe  it.  I 
began  to  think  that  you  never  would  believe  any- 
thing else." 

"  Give  me  the  right  to  believe  something  else, 
and  you  will  find  I  will  do  so  at  any  risk.  Will 
you  not  forgive  me?"  he  entreated. 

"  Ah,  yes,"  she  sighed,  "  I  do  forgive  you." 

"  And  you  love  me  ?  "  he  asked  ;  and  then  he 
stooped  and  took  his  answer  from  her  lips,  which 
yielded  it  at  last. 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

"  Be  thou  the  rainbow  to  the  storms  of  life, 
The  evening  beam  that  smiles  the  clouds  away, 
And  tints  to-morrow  with  prophetic  ray." 

BVEON. 

CHARLOTTE  WILMOTT  had  a  very  different  office 
to  perform  from  that  with  which  Philip  had  cred- 
ited her.  Instead  of  announcing  Cecil's  engage- 
ment to  Edith  Arnold,  she  was  called  upon  to 
break  the  news  of  Philip's  engagement  to  her,  to 
Cecil.  Although  fully  aware  that  he  had  surren- 
dered already  to  other  charms,  she  had  prepared 
herself  for  a  little  sisterly  consolation  on  the  occa- 
sion, and  was  surprised  to  the  degree  of  being 
slightly  disappointed  at  the  coolness  with  which 
her  brother  received  the  information.  "  I  never 
saw  anything  in  Edith  Arnold  myself,"  said  Char- 
lotte, "  but  I  thought  at  one  time,  Cecil,  that  you 
admired  her  very  much." 

"  So  I  did,"  said  Cecil,  lighting  a  cigar.  "  I 
was  in  love  with  her,  I  think." 

"  How  can  you  speak  of  it  like  that !  " 

"  Why  not,  since  it  is  over  ?  " 

"  After  all,  I  don't  believe  you  were  worthy  of 
her ! "  exclaimed  Charlotte,  with  sudden  inspiration. 

"  So  she  thought,"  said  Cecil  coolly. 


A  CAfi/'r.r  K\it;nr.  425 

"  Oh,  she  thought  so,  did  she  .'  "  asked  Miss  AYil- 
mott,  ebangiog  sides  with  female  facility,  as  her  in- 
dignation took  a  new  turn.  "  Well,  1  think  her  a 
self-satisfied  little  minx,  and  am  very  sure  she  is 
not  at  all  worthy  of  Philip,  however  well  she  may 
think  of  herself." 

"By  whieli  nice  gradation  of  nnworthiness  one 
may  see  exactly  how  high  an  appreciation  you  have 
of  your  brother,"  said  Cecil,  with  something  of  his 
old  enjoyment  of  a  joke,  even  at  his  own  expei 

But  Charlotte  was  in  no  jesting  mood.  "It 
is  well  enough  for  you  to  laugh,  Cecil,"  she  an- 
swered, in  an  injured  tone,  "but  no  one  can  say 
that  I  do  not  think  highly  of  my  own  flesh  and 
blood." 

It  chanced  that  the  young  lady  who  was  being 
thus  freely  discussed  had  set  forth  that  very  morn- 
ing from  New  Rochelle  to  make  her  promised  visit 
to  Heronsford,  and  discovered,  on  reaching  Phila- 
delphia, that  Philip  had  come  to  meet  her. 

"  I  have  stolen  a  march  upon  Julia,''  he  said, 
with  satisfaction. 

"  How  was  that  ?  "  she  asked  shyly.  "  Did  Ju- 
lia not  know  of  your  coming  ?  " 

"I  fancy  she  did  not,  but  I  have  my  dog-cart 
here  and  propose  to  drive  you  to  Heronsford." 

"  But,"  said  Edith,  "  I  was  to  take  a  particular 
train  and  Julia  was  to  meet  me.  She  wrote  me  all 
about  it,  and  said  it  left  from  this  same  station." 

"  Well,  then,  we  will  send  her  a  telegram,"  said 
Philip  calmly.  "  I  knew  she  had  despatched  Hog- 


426  A    CARPET  KNIGHT. 

ers  to  meet  you  in  town,  but  not  of  the  rest  of  her 
plan.  I  gave  Rogers  something  else  to  do,  and 
ventured  to  present  myself  instead."  There  was  a 
quiet  confidence  in  his  manner  which  Edith  had 
noticed  there  before,  in  moments  which  required 
decision.  She  inwardly  admired  him  for  it,  but 
felt  herself  called  upon  outwardly  to  demur.  "  I 
am  afraid  Julia  will  be  disappointed,"  she  said. 

"I  shall  regret  that,"  replied  Philip,  "but  have 
you  no  fear  of  disappointing  me  ?  " 

She  started  and  turned  to  him  quickly,  with  a 
faint  blush  and  a  very  tender  light  in  her  eyes. 

"  I  think  I  have  a  prior  right,  have  I  not  ?  "  he 
asked  gently,  drawing  her  little  hand,  as  he  spoke, 
within  his  arm. 

"  Perhaps  you  have,"  she  answered,  and  Philip, 
taking  her  answer  for  consent,  helped  her  into  the 
carriage  without  meeting  with  any  further  objec- 
tion to  such  a  pleasant  mode  of  ending  her  jour- 
ney. 

So  the  telegraphic  message  was  sent,  and  these 
two  young  people  began  one  of  life's  pilgrim- 
ages, which  they  had  determined  to  make  together, 
with  a  happy  confidence  in  each  other  and  in  the 
future  which  it  is  to  be  hoped  was  not  to  prove 
the  result  of  inexperience. 

Julia  meanwhile  had  risen  early  that  morning, 
and  gone  to  the  garden  to  gather  some  flowers 
to  add  a  finishing  touch  to  the  pretty  bed-room 
which  she  had  taken  pleasure  in  preparing  for 
her  friend,  and  after  luncheon  she  proposed  to 


A    CARI1  111.  427 

drive  herself  to  the  station  in  a  jaunty  little  vil- 
lage eai-t  whieh  her  guardian  had  provided  for  her 
use  the  year  before. 

"  Hadst  thou  not  better  take  James  with  thee, 
my  child?"  asked  Mi-s  Hut  liven,  coming  out  on 
the  doorstep  as  .Julia  was  ahout  to  set  forth.  "  Thou 
art  aware  that  Frisky  hath  much  of  the  sprightli- 
ness  of  youth,  which  may  render  him  difficult  to 
control,  ami  is  also  not  patient  under  the  approach 
of  railway  trains." 

"  Oh,  no,  dear  Miss  Ruthven.  You  must  not  be 
anxious,  for  I  know  Frisky's  ways,  and  Edith  and 
I  will  he  quite  enough  of  a  load  for  him." 

"  There  thou  art  right,"  said  Miss  Ruthven 
thoughtfully,  "for  it  is  not  well  to  load  a  young 
horse  too  heavily.  Only  remember  thy  promise  to 
be  careful."  The  old  lady  stood  shading  her  eyes 
as  she  looked  after  Julia,  who  drove  off  in  the  best 
of  humors.  She  knew  that  one  of  the  "  ways  "  of 
the  spirited  black  pony  which  drew  her  Liliputian 
equipage  was  to  back  when  he  saw  a  locomotive, 
and  remembering  his  antipathy  she  turned  him  off 
into  a  grove  of  evergreens  at  a  short  distance  from 
the  station,  to  wait  until  the  train  in  which  she  ex- 
pected Edith  had  come  and  gone.  Then  she  threw 
the  reins  over  his  nock  and  left  him  among  the 
trees  while  she  ran  out  to  look  for  her  friend, — 
but  no  Edith  was  there. 

She  walked  all  round  the  little  square  wooden 
station-house  with  a  keen  sense  of  disappointment, 
peeped  into  the  waiting-room,  where  she  only  saw 


428  A   CARPET  KNIGHT. 

two  severe-looking  old  ladies  wearing  the  American 
livery  of  gray  linen  dusters,  and  was  about  to  re- 
turn to  the  wagon  when  the  station-master  said, 
in  answer  to  some  inquiry, — 

"  There  '11  be  another  train  along,  Miss,  just  in  a 
minute.  It 's  an  express  train,  but  it  '11  stop  for  a 
flag  or  a  passenger,  and  your  friend  may  be  in  that." 

"  Perhaps  she  may,"  said  Julia,  with  renewed 
hope.  "  I  must  go  back  to  Frisky  or  he  will  be 
over  the  traces,"  was  her  next  remark ;  and  Frisky 
was  inclined  to  verify  it,  for  she  just  reached  him 
in  time  to  prevent  that  enterprising  animal  from 
making  various  new  discoveries  in  the  art  of  har- 
nessing. 

Whiz !  Whiz !  Whiz  !  came  the  express  train, 
flying  and  flashing  past  with  such  uncurbed  veloci- 
ty that  she  gave  up  hope  again.  It  did  not  seem 
to  her  to  pause  an  instant,  certainly  not  long 
enough  to  deliver  a  passenger,  before  it  was  whirl- 
ing away  in  the  distance ;  but  she  was  mistaken. 

One  person  had  got  off  the  train,  and  was  com- 
ing briskly  across  the  railway  track  before  she 
had  time  to  turn  Frisky's  head  homeward  and 
emerge  from  the  friendly  shelter  of  the  grove.  The 
solitary  passenger  came  and  stood  in  the  opening 
of  the  green  hemlock  boughs  and  gazed  upon  her 
with  a  surprise  and  pleasure  in  the  meeting  which 
hardly  dared  trust  its  own  origin. 

Julia  was  dressed  in  a  light  summer  costume 
consisting  of  some  gay-colored  chintz,  much  puffed 
and  looped  as  to  the  skirts,  in  shepherdess-like 


A   CARPET  KNIGHT.  429 

style,  but  fitting  closely  to  her  waist  and  shoulders, 
with  a  delicate  white  muslin  kerchief  crossed  al>out 
the  throat.  She  wore  a  broad-brimmed  straw  hat, 
round  which  a  dark  red  silk  scarf  was  twisted  care- 
lessly, and  was  Ix-iiding  forward,  as  she  sat  in  the 
village  cart,  trying  to  disentangle  Frisky's  tail 
from  the  reins.  Her  back  was  towards  the  specta- 
tor, and  he  drew  a  step  nearer  before  he  spoke  her 
name. 

"Julia!" 

She  started  and  dropped  the  reins,  but  did  not 
look  round  until  he  repeated  the  word.  Then  she 
turned  her  head  very  slowly  with  an  expression  of 
fear,  but  one  look  was  enough  to  change  it  into  joy. 

It  was  in  very  truth  Mr.  Dray  ton  who  stood 
close  to  her  with  a  smile  on  his  lips  and  the  glow 
of  health  on  his  cheek.  It  was  no  midnight  vision, 
born  of  hopeless  longing,  which  was  thus  suddenly 
presented  to  her  in  the  morning  sunshine,  and  with 
a  cry  of  happiness  she  sprang  toward  him. 

"Were  you  afraid  I  was  a  ghost?"  he  asked, 
tenderly  drawing  her  to  him  and  looking  down  at 
her  with  a  gleam  of  his  old  humor. 

But  she  did  not  answer.  She  stood  for  a  mo- 
ment gazing  up  into  his  face  as  though  she  could 
not  see  enough  of  him. 

"I  am  too  glad,"  she  whispered,  and  laid  her 
head  upon  his  shoulder  with  a  long  sigh. 

His  face  suddenly  changed.  "  My  sweet,  sweet 
child,"  he  said,  pressing  her  to  his  heart.  "  I  do 
not  deserve  this  happiness.  Shall  I  tell  you  all 


430  A    CARPET  KNIGHT. 

the  things  which  I  have  been  thinking  of  while  I 
have  been  away?" 

"Yes,"  she  said,  "tell  me  everything." 

"  Where  shall  I  begin  ?  " 

"Begin  with  that  night,"  she  answered,  lifting 
her  head  and  looking  up  again. 

"  The  night  of  the  accident  ?  " 

"  The  night  I  saw  you !     Did  you  think  of  me  ?  " 

"  You  mean  when  "  — 

"  When  you  were  so  nearly  lost." 

"  Of  course  I  thought  of  you  —  and  Philip.  It 
was  most  natural  that  I  should." 

"  But  did  you  see  me  ?  "  she  persisted.  "  Did 
you  see  me  when  I  saw  you  ?  " 

"  Do  you  mean  that  you  thought  you  saw  me  on 
that  night  ?  "  he  asked  slowly. 

"  I  did  see  you,  and  there  was  water  all  around 
you,  and  you  were  holding  out  your  arms  to  me !  " 
she  answered,  and  as  she  spoke  his  face  grew  pale 
and  his  eyes  darkened  with  excitement. 

"  I  can  hardly  believe  this,  Julia,"  he  said  in  a 
trembling  voice,  but  Julia  cared  for  nothing  but 
the  truth. 

"  Did  you  see  me  ?  "  she  said. 

"  Yes,  dear,  I  thought  I  did.  It  seemed  to  me 
in  that  awful  moment,  when  consciousness  was 
passing  from  me,  although  I  still  clung  to  a  frag- 
ment of  the  wreck,  that  for  one  instant  the  greatest 
longing  of  my  heart  was  answered,  and  I  saw  your 
face  !  I  had  believed  it  to  be  the  hallucination  of 
a  drowning  man." 


A    CARPET  KNIGHT.  431 

They  were  both  silent  for  a  moment.  Julia  had 
never  withdrawn  her  eyes  from  his.  She  did  so 
now,  with  a  look  of  profound  contentment,  and 
rested  her  chin  thoughtfully  upon  her  hand. 

"I  knew  it,"  she  numumvd. 

"  My  darling  !  What  would  I  not  have  given  to 
spare  you  the  shock  and  suffering  you  had !  I 
think  the  hardest  time  for  me  was  when  I  was  in 
that  sailing-vessel,  carried  along  night  after  night 
over  the  dark  water." 

"  After  you  were  saved  ?  "  she  said. 

"  Yes.  When  I  was  being  taken  to  Gibraltar 
against  my  will,  with  such  a  strange  sense  of  help- 
lessness and  isolation  from  all  iny  world,  to  which 
I  did  not  doubt  that  I  was  already  as  one  dead." 

"  Hush  !  "  she  whispered,  shuddering,  and  put 
her  hand  up  as  though  to  close  his  lips,  but  he 
caught  the  hand  and  kisx-d  it,  with  a  vehemence 
which  brought  the  color  to  her  cheeks. 

"  I  made  up  my  mind  to  two  things  while  I  was 
abroad,"  he  said.  "  WThat  do  you  think  they 
were  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know." 

"  The  first  was  to  come  home  just  as  soon  as  the 
duties  to  others  which  I  had  undertaken  would 
permit,"  he  said,  with  a  merry  smile. 

"  And  the  second  ?  "  asked  Julia. 

"  The  second  decision,"  he  replied  more  gravely, 
"  was  not  reached  until  after  I  returned  to  London, 
and  received  Philip's  long  letter  telling  of  all  the 
anxiety  which  my  reported  loss  had  brought,  and 


432  A   CARPET  KNIGHT. 

above  all,  of  my  little  girl's  illness.     Then  I  deter- 
mined —  look  at  me,  dear  Julia." 

She  raised  her  head  obediently,  and  looked 
gravely  into  his  face. 

"  I  determined  that  come  what  would,  you 
should  know  my  love,  and  that  it  was  love  alone 
which  had  driven  me  from  you  —  even  if  you 
turned  from  me  with  dread  a  moment  after!" 

She  opened  her  eyes  with  sudden  astonishment. 
.    "  What  can  you  mean  ?  "  she  asked.     "  Have  I 
not  always  known  that  you  loved  me,  tenderly  and 
truly?"' 

"You  have  indeed,"  said  Mr.  Drayton,  "  but  I  love 
you  more,  now.  I  love  you  desperately  —  absorb- 
ingly ;  with  a  love  which  claims  you  for  its  own !  " 

She  turned  away  her  head,  and  drew  her  hand 
from  his  with  gentle  dignity. 

"  Is  it  strange,"  he  continued,  "  that  when  I  was 
mastered  by  such  a  selfish  feeling  as  this,  I  should 
have  felt  that  my  only  manly  course  was  to  leave 
you?" 

"  It  seems  strange  to  me,"  she  said. 

"  I  felt,  that  I  could  not  stay,  Julia,  without 
asking  you  to  be  my  wife." 

To  this  she  did  not  answer  by  word  or  look. 
She  was  intensely  still.  The  lids  were  drooped 
over  her  eyes,  but  her  half  averted  face  spoke  to 
him  in  spite  of  herself.  It  seemed  that  there  was 
a  silent  reproach  in  it. 

"  Do  not  fancy  that  I  was  afraid  to  bear  the  pain 
of  a  refusal,"  he  said  hurriedly. 


A   CARPET  KNIGHT.  438 

Still  she  answered  nothing. 

The  minds  of  men  and  women  travel  by  such 
different  methods  that  even  where  most  sympa- 
thetic they  sometimes  reach  quite  opposite  conclu- 
sions from  the  same  premises. 

"  The  truth  was  this,"  he  said  at  last,  with  an 
effort  to  speak  out  all  that  was  in  his  mind,  let  it 
cost  what  it  might  in  the  way  of  misconstruction. 
"  I  knew  that  in  answer  to  the  protecting  love 
which  I  had  had  for  you  so  long,  my  child,  and  of 
which  we  have  just  spoken,  you  loved  me  too  as 
a  daughter  might  love  a  father,  and  I  feared  to 
shock  that  love  by  offering  you  a  feeling  so  differ- 
ent ;  or  that  by  the  gradual  influence  which  my 
mind  had  acquired  over  yours  in  the  years  we  had 
lived  together,  I  might  persuade  you  to  believe  that 
you  cared  for  me  more  than  you  did,  and  then,  too 
late,  might  come  the  true  hero  who  could  have  filled 
your  dreams,  and  I  should  stand  by  in  despair  to 
see  my  darling's  life  made  wretched." 

Julia  turned  her  face  towards  him  now  with  one 
long  reproachful  look. 

"  You  are  my  hero,"  she  said. 

"  I  thought  that  in  your  exalted  fancy  you  might 
have  imagined  me  very  different  from  the  reality," 
he  answered.  "  It  seemed  best  to  remove  my  in- 
fluence and  let  you  see  more  of  others." 

"  If  I  never  see  you  again  from  this  moment," 

said  Julia,  with  a  strange  courage  which  had  come 

to  her  as  he  talked,  "  or  if  I  spend  all  my  life  with 

-you,  it  will  be  the  same  thing  with  me,  and  as  for 


434  A  CARPET  KNIGHT. 

your  being  a  hero,  that  is  proved,  and  there  is  no 
more  room  for  fancy  in  the  matter." 

"  My  love  !  My  love  !  "  he  cried  passionately, 
and  caught  her  in  his  arms.  "  Will  you  be  my 
very  own?  "  he  said,  bending  over  her. 

"  Did  you  not  wish  to  forget  me  ?  " 

"  I  never  hoped  to  do  so.  I  knew  it  was  impos- 
sible." 

He  spoke  almost  sadly.  His  eyes  were  looking 
into  hers  which  suddenly  grew  bright  with  triumph. 

"  Say  again  that  you  love  me,"  she  whispered. 

And  he  did  say  it  in  more  ways  than  one,  so  that 
at  last  she  was  convinced ;  and  by  and  by  they  per- 
ceived that  Frisky  had  eaten  up  all  the  bushes  in 
his  neighborhood,  and  proceeding  to  get  his  head 
the  other  way  they  drove  slowly  towards  Herons- 
ford,  but  when  they  had  gone  about  half  the  dis- 
tance Julia  drew  in  the  reins  with  a  sudden  jerk 
and  a  little  exclamation. 

"  What  is  the  matter  ?  "  asked  her  guardian, 
looking  about  them  vainly  for  the  cause  of  this 
abrupt  stoppage. 

"  Why,  what  can  have  become  of  Edith  ?  "  she 
cried.  " I  expected  to  have  met  her  at  the  train! " 

"  Are  you  sure  that  you  met  the  train  she  told 

you?" 

"  Oh !  she  did  not  tell  me,  it  was  I  who  told 
her." 

"  What  do  you  mean,  dear?  " 

"  I  wrote  her  last  week  just  what  train  to  take, 
and  I  sent  Rogers  in  to  meet  her  this  morning." 


A   CARPET  KNK'.HT.  436 

"  Probably  she  has  made  some  change  of  plan, 
and  when  we  get  home  you  will  find  a  letter  ex- 
plaining it." 

"Perhaps  I  shall,"  said  Julia,  and  there  was 
every  reason  now  why  she  should  have  driven  on, 
but  still  the  cart  stood  still  in  the  middle  of  the 
country  road,  and  Frisky  had  begun  his  favorite 
habit  of  browsing  by  the  wayside. 

"  There  is  something  else  which  —  which  troubles 
me,"  she  said  presently,  examining  the  lash  of  her 
slender  driving  whip  with  great  interest. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Drayton,  very  gently. 

"  It  is  about  my  mother,"  she  said,  blushing  all 
over  as  she  spoke. 

"  You  mean  about  telling  her  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  Leave  that  to  me." 

"  But  will  she  —  will  she  like  it  ?  " 

"  I  think  she  will,  when  she  fully  understands. 
She  shall  be  told  first,  before  any  one  else.  Is  not 
that  what  you  would  wish  ?  " 

"Oh,  yes!  I  wish  no  one  else  need  know  at 
all!" 

Mr.  Drayton  laughed.  "There  is  no  need  of 
their  knowing  for  the  present,  at  any  rate,"  he 
said. 

"Mr.  Drayton"  —  timidly. 

"  Are  you  going  to  call  me  that  always  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  she  said,  blushing  again ;  "  but 
I  want  to  tell  you  something." 

"Well,  dear?" 


436  A   CARPET  KNIGHT. 

"  When  you  were  away  and  that  dreadful  news 
came,  and  afterwards  when  I  was  ill  and  was  get- 
ting better,  Philip  was  so  true  and  kind  and 
thoughtful  for  me,  that  I  never  can  forget  it.  I 
have  always  felt  to  him  as  towards  a  brother,  but 
I  do  not  think  I  quite  appreciated  before  all  the 
strength  and  tenderness  that  there  was  in  him." 

For  answer  Mr.  Drayton  put  his  arm  about  her 
and  pressed  her  to  his  side. 

"Thank  you  for  telling  me,"  he  said,  after  a 
moment,  and  then  Frisky  was  reminded  of  the 
error  of  his  ways. 


of  fiction 

PUBLISHED   BY 

HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  AND  COMPANY, 

4  PARK  STREET,  BOSTON,  MASS. 

Thomas  Bailey  Aldrich. 

Story  of  a  Bad  Boy.     Illustrated.     I2mo $1.50 

Marjorie  Daw  and  Other  People.     I2mo 1.50 

Prudence  Palfrey.     I2mo 1.50 

The  Queen  of  Sheba.     I2mo 1.50 

The  Stillwater  Tragedy,     ismo 1.50 

Hans  Christian  Andersen. 

Complete  Works.     In  ten  uniform  volumes,  crown  8vo. 


The  Improvisatore ;  or,  Life  in  Italy 

The  Two  Baronesses 

O.  T. ;  or,  Life  in  Denmark      .     .     . 

Only  a  Fiddler 

In  Spain  and  Portugal 

A  Poet's  Bazaar 

Pictures  of  Travel 


The  Story  of  my  Life.     With  portrait    .     .    . 
Wonder  Stories  told  for  Children.     Illustrated 
Stories  and  Tales.     Illustrated  .... 


v 

•3° 

•: 
.50 

I  < 

•Sfi 

;  I 

•=•' 
.50 

The  set 15.00 

A  new  and  cheap  Edition,  in  attractive  binding.     Sold 
only  in  sets 10.00 

William  Henry  Bishop. 

Detmold  :  A  Romance.    "  Little  Classic  "  style.  i8mo     1.25 

The  House  of  a  Merchant  Prince.     I2mo 1.50 

Choy  Susan,  and  other  Stories,  i6mo 1.25 


2  Works  of  Fiction  Published  by 

Bjornstjerne  Bjornson. 

Works.  American  Edition,  sanctioned  by  the  author, 
and  translated  by  Professor  R.  B.  Anderson,  of  the 
University  of  Wisconsin.  In  seven  volumes,  i6mo. 

Synnove  Solbakken. 

Arne. 

A  Happy  Boy. 

The  Fisher  Maiden. 

The  Bridal  March,  and  Other  Stories. 

Captain  Mansana,  and  Other  Stories. 

Magnhild. 

Each  volume $1.00 

The  set 7.00 

The  Same.     In  three  volumes,  izmo 4.50 

Alice  Gary. 

Pictures  of  Country  Life.     I2mo 1.50 

Mary  Clemmer. 

His  Two  Wives.     iamo 1.50 

John  Esten  Cooke. 

My  Lady  Pokahontas.     (In  press.) 

James  Fenimore  Cooper. 

Complete  Works.  New  Household  Edition,  in  attrac- 
tive binding.  With  Introductions  to  many  of  the 
volumes  by  Susan  Fenimore  Cooper,  and  Illustra- 
tions. In  thirty-two  volumes,  i6mo. 

Precaution.  The  Prairie. 

The  Spy.  Wept  of  Wish-ton-Wish. 

The  Pioneers.  The  Water  Witch. 

The  Pilot.  The  Bravo. 

Lionel  Lincoln.  The  Heidenmauer. 

•  Last  of  the  Mohicans.  The  Headsman. 

Red  Rover.  The  Monikins. 

Homeward  Bound.  Miles  Wallingford. 

Home  as  Found.  The  Red  Skins. 

The  Pathfinder.  The  Chainbearer. 

Mercedes  of  Castile.  Satanstoe. 

The  Deerslayer.  The  Crater. 

The  Two  Admirals.  Jack  Tier. 

Wing  and  Wing.  The  Sea  Lions. 

Wyandotte.  Oak  Openings. 

Afloat  and  Ashore.  The  Ways  of  the  Hour. 

Each  volume  sold  separately. 


Honghton,  Mifflin  and  Company.  3 

Each  volume $1.00 

The  set 32.OO 

Half  calf 80.00 

Globe  EJiliiw.  With  thirty-two  original  Illustrations, 
by  Darley,  Dielman,  Fredericks,  Sheppard,  and 
Waud.  In  sixteen  volumes,  izmo. 

The  set 20.00 

Half  calf 43-QO 

(Sold  only  in  sets.) 

Sea  Tales.  New  Household  Edition,  in  attractive  bind- 
ing, the  volumes  containing  Introductions  by  Susan 
Fenimore  Cooper.     Illustrated. 
First  Series.     Including  — 

The  Pilot.  The  Red  Rover. 

The  Water  Witch.  The  Two  Admirals. 

Wing  and  Wing. 

Second  Series.     Including  — 

The  Sea  Lions.  Afloat  and  Ashore. 

Tack  Tier.  Miles  Wallingford. 

The  Crater. 

Each  set,  5  vols.  i6mo 5.00 

Half  calf 12.50 

Leather- Stocking  Tales.  New  Household  Edition,  in 
attractive  binding,  the  volumes  containing  Introduc- 
tions by  Susan  Fenimore  Cooper.  Illustrated.  In 
five  volumes,  i6mo. 

The  Deerslaver.  The  Pioneers. 

The  Pathfinder.  The  Prairie, 

Last  of  the  Mohicans. 

The  set 5.00 

Half  calf 12.50 

Cooper  Stories ;  being  Narratives  of  Adventure  se- 
lected from  his  Works.  \Vith  Illustrations  by  F.  O. 
C.  Darley.  In  three  volumes,  i6mo,  each  .  .  .  .  i.co 

Charles  Egbert  Craddock. 

In  the  Tennessee  Mountains.     i6mo 1.25 

The  Prophet  of  the  Great  Smoky  Mountains.    (/«  press.) 

F.  Marion  Crawford. 


To  Leeward.  i6mo  .... 
A  Roman  Singer.  i6mo  .  . 
An  American  Politician.  i6mo 

Maria  S.  Cummins. 


The  Lamplighter.  12010 
El  Fureidis.  I2mo  .  . 
Mabel  Vaughan.  12010  . 


4  Works  of  Fiction  Published  by 

Daniel  De  Foe. 

Robinson  Crusoe.  Illustrations  by  Thomas  Nast  and 
E.  Bayard.  i6mo $1.00 

P.  Deming. 

Adirondack  Stories.     "  Little  Classic "  style.     iSmo  .       .75 
Tompkins  and  other  Folks.       "Little  Classic"  style. 
i8mo l.oo 

Thomas  DeQuincey. 

Romances  and  Extravaganzas.  Riverside  Edition. 

I2mo 1.50 

Narrative  and  Miscellaneous  Papers.  Riverside  Edi- 
tion. i2mo 1.50 

Charles  Dickens. 

Complete  Works.  Illustrated  Library  Edition.  With 
Introductions,  biographical  and  historical,  by  E.  P. 
Whipple.  Containing  all  the  Illustrations  that  have 
appeared  in  the  English  edition  by  Cruikshank,  Phiz, 
Seymour,  John  Leech,  Maclise,  Marcus  Stone,  and 
others,  engraved  on  steel,  to  which  are  added  the  de- 
signs of  F.  O.  C.  Darley  and  John  Gilbert,  in  all  num- 
bering over  550.  Handsomely  bound,  and  complete 
in  twenty-nine  volumes,  I2mo. 

The  Pickwick  Papers,  2  vols.  Dombey  and  Son,  2  vols. 

Nicholas  Nickleby,  2  vols.      Pictures  from   Italy,   and 

Oliver  Twist.  American  Notes. 

Old  Curiosity  Shop,  and  Re-  Bleak  House,  2  vols. 
printed  Pieces,  2  vols.         Little  Dorrit,  2  vols. 

Barnaby  Rudge,  and  Hard  David  Copperfield,  2  vols. 
Times,  2  vols.  A  Tale  of  Two  Cities. 

Martin  Chuzzlewit,  2  vols.      Great  Expectations. 

Our  Mutual  Friend,  2  vols.    Edwin      Drood,      Master 

Uncommercial  Traveller.  Humphrey's  Clock,  and 

A  Child's  History  of  Eng-          Other  Pieces, 
land,  and  Other  Pieces.       Sketches  by  Boz. 

Christmas  Books. 

Each  volume 1.50 

The  set.     With  Dickens  Dictionary.     30  vols .     .  45.00 
Half  calf. 100.00 

Globe  Edition.  Printed  in  large  type  (long  primer)  on 
good  paper,  and  containing  all  the  Illustrations  of 
Darley  and  Gilbert  (55  in  number)  on  steel,  and  the 
Index  of  Characters.  In  fifteen  volumes,  I2mo. 

Each  volume 1.25 

The  set 18.75 

Half  calf,  or  half  morocco 40.00 


Houghton,  Mifflin  and  Company.  5 

Christmas  Carol.  Illustrated.  8vo,  full  gilt ....  $3.00 

Morocco 7.00 

The  Same.  32mo 75 

Christmas  Hooks.  Illustrated,  izmo 2.00 

Morocco 5.00 

Edgar  Favvcett. 

A  Hopeless  Case.  "  Little  Classic "  style.  i8mo  .  1.25 
A  Gentleman  of  Leisure.  "  Little  Classic  "  style.  iSmo  i.oo 
An  Ambitious  Woman.  I2mo 1.50 

F6nelon. 

Adventures  of  Telemachus.     I2mo 2.25 

Baron  de  la  Motte  Fouqu6. 

Undine,  Sintram  and  his  Companions,  with  St  Pierre's 
"  Paul  and  Virginia,"  321110 75 

Undine  and  other  Tales.  Illustrated.  "  Riverside 
Classics."  i6mo i.co 

Johann  Wolfgang  von  Goethe. 

Wilhelm   Meister.    Translated  by  Thomas   Carlyle. 

Portrait  of  Goethe.     In  two  volumes.     12010       .     .     3.00 
The  Tale  and  Favorite  Poems.     32010 75 

Oliver  Goldsmith. 

Vicar  of  Wakefield.     Handy-Volume  Edition.    32010, 

gilt  top 1.25 

The  Same.    "  Riverside  Classics."    Illustrated.    i6rao      1.00 

Jeanie  T.  Gould. 

Marjorie's  Quest.     Illustrated.     I2mo 1.50 

Thomas  Chandler  Haliburton. 

The  Clockmaker  ;  or,  The  Sayings  and  Doings  of 
Samuel  Slick  of  Slickville.  "  Riverside  Classics." 
Illustrated  by  Darley.  i6mo i.co 

A.  S.  Hardy. 

But  Yet  a  Woman.     i6mo 1.25 

Bret  Harte. 

The  Luck  of  Roaring  Camp,  and  Other  Sketches.  i6mo.  1.50 
Condensed  Novels.  Illustrated.  i6mo  .'....  1.50 


6  Works  of  Fiction  Ptiblished  by 

Mrs.  Skaggs's  Husbands,  and  Other  Sketches.  i6mo.  $1.50 
Tales  of  the  Argonauts,  and  Other  Stories.  l6mo  .  1.50 
Thankful  Blossom.  "  Little  Classic  "  style.  i8mo  .  1.25 
Two  Men  of  Sandy  Bar.  A  Play.  "  Little  Classic  " 

style.     i8mo i.oo 

The  Story  of  a  Mine.  "  Little  Classic  "  style.  i8mo  i.oo 
Drift  from  Two  Shores.  "  Little  Classic  "  style.  i8mo  1.25 
The  Twins  of  Table  Mountain,  and  Other  Sketches. 

"  Little  Classic  "  style.     iSmo 1.25 

Works.      Rearranged,   with   an   Introduction   and   a 

Portrait.     In  five  volumes,  crown  8vo. 
Poetical  Works,  and  the  drama,  "  Two  Men  of  Sandy 

Bar,"  with  an  Introduction  and  Portrait. 
The  Luck  of  Roaring  Camp,  and  Other  Stories. 
Tales  of  the  Argonauts  and  Eastern  Sketches. 
Gabriel  Conroy. 
Stories  and  "  Condensed  Novels." 

Each  volume 2.00 

The  set '. 10.00 

Half  calf 20.00 

Flip  ;  and,  Found  at  Blazing  Star.     "  Little  Classic  " 

style.     i8mo i.oo 

In   the    Carquinez  Woods.     "  Little  Classic "  style. 

iStno i.oo 

On  the  Frontier.    "  Little  Classic  "  style.    i8mo.     ..    .     i.oo 

Nathaniel  Hawthorne. 

Works:  New  Riverside  Edition.  With  an  original 
etching  in  each  volume,  and  a  new  Portrait.  With 
bibliographical  notes  by  George  P.  Lathrop.  Com- 
plete in  twelve  volumes,  crown  8vo. 

Twice-Told  Tales. 

Mosses  from  an  Old  Manse. 

The  House  of  the  Seven  Gables,  and  the  Snow-Image. 

The  Wonder-Book,  Tanglewood  Tales,  and  Grand- 
father's Chair. 

The  Scarlet  Letter,  and  The  Blithedale  Romance. 

The  Marble  Faun. 

Our  Old  Home,  and  English  Note-Books.     2  vols. . 

American  Note-Books. 

French  and  Italian  Note-Books. 

The  Dolliver  Romance,  Fanshawe,  Septimius  Felton, 
and,  in  an  Appendix,  the  Ancestral  Footstep. 

Tales,  Sketches,  and  Other  Papers.  With  Biograph- 
ical Sketch  by  G.  P.  Lathrop,  and  Indexes. 

Each  volume 2.00 

The  set 24.00 

Half  calf 48.00 

Half  crushed  levant .  ,     .   60.00 


Houghton,  Mifflin  and  Company.  7 

"  Little  Classic "  Edition.  Each  volume  contains  a 
IN.-W  Vignette  Illustration.  In  twenty-five  volumes, 
i8mo. 

Each  volume $1.00 

The  set 25.00 

Half  calf,  or  half  morocco 62.50 

Tree  calf 81.00 

Volumes  of  the  Original  /6mo  Edition  still  in  stock  :  — 

Twice-Told  Tales.  '  Steel  portrait.     2  vols 3.00 

The  Snow-Image 1.50 

Septimius  Felton 1.50 

A  Wonder- Book  for  Girls  and  Boys.  Holiday  Edition. 

With  Illustrations  by  F.  S.  Church.     410 2.50 

Twice-Told  Tales.    School  Edition.     i8mo l.oo 

The  Scarlet  Letter.  Holiday  Edition.  Illustrated  by 
Mary  Hallock  Foote.  Red-line  border.  8vo,  full 

gilt 4.00 

Half  calf     .     .     . 6.00 

Morocco,  or  tree  calf 9.00 

True  Stories  from  History  and  Biography.     I2mo      .      1.50 

The  Wonder-Book.     I2mo 1.50 

Tanglewood  Tales.     I2mo 1.50 

Tales  of  the  White  Hills,  and  Legends  of  New  Eng- 
land. 32mo 75 

Legends  of  Province  House,  and  A  Virtuoso's  Col- 
lection. 32010 75 

Oliver  Wendell  Holmes. 

Elsie  Venner.     A  Romance  of  Destiny.    Crown  8vo  .     2.00 

The  Guardian  Angel.     Crown  8vo 2.00 

The  Story  of  Iris.    32010 75 

Blanche  Willis  Howard. 

One   Summer.      A   Novel.     "  Little  Classic "   style. 

l8mo 1.25 

Holiday  Edition.     Illustrated   by  Hoppin.      Square 

121110 2.5O 

Augustus  Hoppin. 

Recollections  of  Auton  House.     Illustrated.     Small 

4to 1-25 

A  Fashionable  Sufferer.     Illustrated.     I2mo      ...  1.50 

Two  Compton  Boys.     Illustrated.     Square  i6mo.  1.50 

William  Dean  Howells. 

Their  Wedding  Journey.     Illustrated.     I2mo    .    .    .     1.50 
The  Same.     Illustrated.     Paper  covers.     i6mo     .    .       -50 


8  Works  of  Fiction  Published  by 

The  Same.     "  Little  Classic"  style.     i8mo    ....  $1.25 

A  Chance  Acquaintance.     Illustrated.     I2mo    .     .     .  1.50 

The  Same.     Illustrated.     Paper  covers.     i6mo     .     .  .50 

The  Same.     "  Little  Classic  "  style.     i8mo  ....  1.25 

A  Foregone  Conclusion.     I2mo 1.50 

The  Lady  of  the  Aroostook.     i2mo 1.50 

The  Undiscovered  Country.     I2mo 1.50 

A  Day's  Pleasure,  etc.     321110 75 

Thomas  Hughes. 

Tom   Brown's   School-Days    at   Rugby.     Illustrated 

Edition.     i6mo  .• l.oo 

Tom  Brown  at  Oxford.     i6mo 1.25 

Henry  James,  Jr. 

A  Passionate  Pilgrim,  and  Other  Tales.     I2mo.     .     .  2.00 

Roderick  Hudson.     I2mo   .  ' 2.00 

The  American.     I2mo 2.00 

Watch  and  Ward.     "  Little  Classic "  style.     l8mo     .  1.25 

The  Europeans.     I2mo 1.50 

Confidence.     I2mo 1.50 

The  Portrait  of  a  Lady.     I2mo 2.00 

Anna  Jameson. 

Studies  and  Stories.     "  Little  Classic  "  style.     i8mo  .      1.50 
Douglas  Jerrold. 

Mrs.  Caudle's  Curtain  Lectures.    Illustrated.   "  River- 
side Classics."     i6mo 1.00 

Sarah  Orne  Jewett. 

Deephaven.     i6mo 1.25 

Old  Friends  and  New.    i8mo 1.25 

Country  By-Ways.     i8mo 1.25 

The  Mate  of  the  Daylight.     l8mo 1.25 

A  Country  Doctor.     lomo 1.25 

Rossiter  Johnson. 

"Little  Classics."     Each  in  one  volume.     i8mo. 

I.  Exile.  IV.  Life. 

II.  Intellect.  V.  Laughter. 

III.  Tragedy.  VI.  Love. 


Hougkton,  Mifflin  and  Ccnnpany.  9 

VII.  Romance.  XIII.  Narrative  Poems. 

VIII.  Mystery.  XIV.  Lvrical  Poems. 

IX.  Comedy.  XV.  Minor  Poems. 

X.  Childhood.  XVI.  Nature. 

XI.  Heroism.  XVII.  Humanity. 

XII.  Kortune.  XVIII.  Authors. 

Each  volume $1.00 

The  set 18.00 

Half  calf,  or  half  morocco 45-00 

The  Same.     In  nine  volumes,  square  iGmo. 

The  set 13-50 

Half  calf 27-00 

Tree  calf 40.50 

(Sold  only  in  sets.) 

Charles  and  Mary  Lamb. 

Tales  from  Shakespeare.     i8mo l.oo 

The  Same.     Illustrated.     i6mo l.oo 

The  Same.    Handy- Volume  Edition.    32010,  gilt  top   .     1.25 

Henry  Wadsworth  Longfellow. 

Hyperion.     A  Romance.     i6mo 1.50 

'.lar  Edition.     i6mo 40 

J'ofiilur  Edition.     Paper  covers,  i6mo 15 

Outre-Mer.     i6mo       1.50 

Popular  Edition.     l6mo 40 

J'cf/t/ar  Edition.     Paper  covers,  i6mo 15 

Kavanagh.     i6mo 1.50 

S.  Weir  Mitchell. 

In  War  Time.     i6mo 1.25 

Nora  Perry. 

The  Tragedy  of  the  Unexpected,  and  Other  Stories. 
"  Little  Classic  "  style.     i8mo 1.25 

Elizabeth  Stuart  Phelps. 


The  Gates  Ajar.     i6mo 

Beyond  the  Gates.     i6mo 

Men,  Women,  and  Ghosts.     i6mo    .    . 

Hedged  In.     i6mo 

The  Silent  Partner.     i6mo 

The  Story  of  Avis.     i6mo 

Sealed  Orders,  and  Other  Stories.     i6mo 

Friends  :  A  Duet.     i6mo 

Doctor  Zay.     iGmo 


IO  Works  of  Fiction  Published  by 

Phoebe. 

By  the  author  of  "  Rutledge."     i6mo $1-25 

Joseph  Xavier  Boniface  Saintine. 

Picciola.     "  Riverside  Classics."     Illustrated.    i6mo  .     i.oo 

Jacques  Henri  Bernardin  de  Saint-Pierre. 

Paul  and  Virginia.    "  Riverside  Classics."    Illustrated. 

i6mo       i. co 

The  Same,  together  with  Undine,  and  Sintram.   32010       .75 

Sir  Walter  Scott. 

The  Waverley  Novels.  Illustrated  Library  Edition. 
This  edition  has  been  carefully  edited,  and  is  illus- 
trated with  ico  engravings  by  Darley,  Dielman, 
Fredericks,  Low,  Share,  Sheppard,  and  has  also  a 
glossary  and  a  very  full  index  of  characters.  In  25 
volumes,  I2mo. 

Waverley.  Peveril  of  the  Peak. 

Guy  Mannering.  Quendn  Durward. 

The  Antiquary.  St.  Ronan's  Well. 

Rob  Roy.  Redgauntlet. 

Old  Mortality.  The  Betrothed,  and  the 

Black  Dwarf,  and  Legend          Highland  Widow. 

of  Montrose.  The  Talisman,  and  Other 

Heart  of  Mid-Lothian.  Tales. 

Bride  of  Lammermoor.  Woodstock. 

Ivanhoe.  The  Fair  Maid  of  Perth. 

The  Monastery.  Anne  of  Geierstein. 

The  Abbot.  Count  Robert  of  Paris. 

Kenil  worth.  The  Surgeon's  Daughter, 

The  Pirate.  and  Castle  Dangerous. 

The  Fortunes  of  Nigel. 

Each  volume i.oo 

The  set 25.00 

Half  calf 62.50 

Half  seal 75.00 

Globe  Edition.  Complete  in  13  volumes.  With  100 
Illustrations.  i6mo. 

The  set 16.25 

Half  calf,  or  half  morocco 35'°° 

{Sold  only  in  sets. ) 
Tales  of  a  Grandfather.     Illustrated  Library  Edition. 

With  six  steel  plates.     In  three  volumes,  I2mo  .     .     4.50 

Half  calf 9-°° 

Ivanhoe.     Fancy  binding.    8vo i.oo 

Half  calf 2.50 


Honghton,  Mijjjlin  and  Company.  \\ 
Horace  E.  Sciuldcr. 

The  Dwellers  in  Ki\e-Si, ters' Court.     i6mo .    .    .     .$1.25 

Stories  and  Romances.     i6mo i.zc 

Mark  Sibley  Severance. 

Hammersmith :  His   Harvard  Days.     I2mo      .    .    .  1.50 

T.  D.  Sherwood. 

Comic  History  of  the  United  States.   Illustrated.   i2ino  2.50 

J.  E.  Smith. 

Oakridge  :  An  Old-Time  Story  of  Maine.     12010   .    .  2.00 

Mary  A.  Sprague. 

An  Earnest  Trifler.     i6mo 1.25 

Harriet  Beechcr  Stowe. 

Agnes  of  Sorrento.     12010 1.50 

The  Pearl  of  Orr's  Island.     I2mo 1.50 

Uncle   Tom's  Cabin.      Popular  Illustrated  Edition. 

I2mo 2.0O 

The  Minister's  Wooing.     I2mo 1.50 

The  Mayflower,  and  Other  Sketches.     I2mo      .     .     .  1.50 

Nina  Gordon  (formerly  called  "  Dred  ").     ismo    .     .  1.50 

Oldtown  Folks.     I2mo 1.50 

Sam    Lawson's    Fireside    Stories.     Illustrated.     New 

Edition,  enlarged 1.50 

My  Wife  and  I.     Illustrated.     i2mo 1.50 

We  and  Our  Neighbors.     Illustrated.     I2mo     .     .     .  1.50 

Poganuc  People.     Illustrated.     12010 1.50 

The  above  eleven  volumes,  in  box 16.50 

Uncle  Tom's  Cabin.  Holiday  Edition.  With  red  line 
border.  Introduction,  and  a  Bibliography  by  George 
Bullen,  of  the  British  Museum.  Over  100  Illustra- 
tions. i2mo 3-50 

Half  calf 6.00 

Morocco,  or  tree  calf 7-5° 

A  Dog's  Mission,  etc.     Illustrated.     Small  4to .    .    .  1.25 

Queer  Little  People.     Illustrated.     Small  410     .     .     .  1.25 

Little  1'ussy  Willow.     Illustrated.     Small  410    ...  1.25 

Gen.  Lew  Wallace. 

The  Fair  God ;  or,  The  Last  of  the  'Tzins.     I2mo  .  1.50 


12  Works  of  Fiction. 

Henry  Watterson. 

Oddities  in  Southern  Life  and  Character.    Illustrated. 

i6mo $1.50 

Richard  Grant  White. 

The  Fate  of  Mansfield  Humphreys,  together  with  the 
Episode  of  Mr.  Washington  Adams  in  England. 
i6mo 1.25 

Adeline  D.  T.  Whitney. 

Faith  Gartney's  Girlhood.     Illustrated.     I2mo   .    .     .     1.50 


Hitherto:  A  Story  of  Yesterdays.     I2mo 

JPatience  Strong's  Outings.     I2mo 

The  Gayworthys.     I2mo 

Leslie  Goldthwaite.     Illustrated.     I2mo    .     .     . 
We  Girls  :  A  Home  Story.     Illustrated.     I2mo 

Real  Folks.     Illustrated.     I2mo 

The  Other  Girls.     Illustrated.     I2mo    .     , 


.50 

•50 
.50 
.50 
.50 
•50 

•5° 

Sights  and  Insights.     2  vols.  i2mo 3.00 

Odd,  or  Even  ?     I2mo 1.50 

Boys  at  Chequasset.     Illustrated.     I2mo 1.50 

The  above  twelve  volumes  in  box 18.00 

*4*  For  sale  by  all  Booksellers.  Sent,  pest- f  aid,  on  receipt  of  price  (in 
check  on  Boston  or  New  York,  money-order,  or  registered  letter)  by  the 
Publishers, 

HOUGHTON,   MIFFLIN   AND   COMPANY, 

4  PARK  ST.,  BOSTON,  MASS.;  n  EAST  SEVENTEENTH  ST., 

NEW  YORK. 

A  Catalogue  containing  portraits  of  many  of  the  above  authors, 
•with  a  description  of  their  -works,  will  be  sent  free,  on  application, 
to  any  address. 


UC  SOUTHERN  tCOONM.  UORAftT  f»OL 


A     000092218     7 


